Rise of the Mechakongs
by JJ Rust
Summary: Iran's Revolutionary Guards have built their own Mechakongs, making them deadlier than the original from "King Kong Escapes." Their target, the USA. Can Godzilla, the Guardian Monsters and the USAF's Danguard Ace stop the invaders?
1. Chapter 1

"Somebody get this damn thing off me!"

Another quake rocked Danguard Ace, rattling every bone in Major Jim Rieger's body. He shoved and stabbed the controls in front of him, all the while looking at a screen in his helmet's visor. The rear camera showed a black and gray monster with a stubby, reptilian head and huge, sharp spines running from its skull to its tail sitting on Danguard Ace's back. It raised its right front foot and slammed it down on the robot's back. The massive blow bounced Rieger in his seat. Had it not been for the restraints, he would have been on the cockpit floor.

"Bob, you think you can do something about this?"

In the seat below and to his left, a tall, skinny man with black hair tapped some buttons and screens. He then turned to Rieger and shook his head. "We still have multiple systems failures to Danguard's weapons."

Rieger grunted and looked to the paunchy man with thinning brown hair in the seat next to Captain Bob Martinez. "Heath."

Another blow by the monster Varan shook their robot.

"Heath, we need weapons, like five minutes ago."

"I'm trying to re-route power to the maser, but it's difficult. There are too many electrical failures."

"Find a way to make it work."

Another blow from Varan.

Rieger clenched his teeth. Even if Heath could get the maser to work, the weapon was housed in Danguard Ace's chest, currently pressed against a hillside overlooking Salt Lake City. The eye-mounted particle beams were off-line and the shoulder-mounted 75mm gatling guns had been wrecked by Varan.

The monster pounded Danguard Ace's back again.

Data streamed across Rieger's visor. Engine One was damaged. Structural integrity of the rear armor plating was degraded by 40 percent.

He didn't have time to wait for Heath to fix the maser.

"Looks like I'm gonna have to improvise."

Martinez looked up at him. "I hate when you say that."

Rieger grinned. He gripped the control stick and settled his finger over the engine start button.

"Time to go for a ride, you ugly bastard."

He stabbed the button.

A rumble echoed through Danguard Ace. Engine Two fired, flames gushing out the nozzle. The robot bounced over hills and trees, and smashed through power lines. Rieger pulled back on the stick, straining as he slowly gained altitude. Thirty feet . . . forty . . . fifty. At 100 feet, he performed a barrel roll.

Varan still hung on.

Rieger dropped closer to the ground. Varan's spikes dug a huge crevasse in the green countryside. His head banged against the ground.

_C'mon, c'mon._

Varan's grip slackened. Finally the monster let go. He rolled across the ground, kicking up huge dust clouds until he finally came to a stop.

Rieger twisted Danguard Ace around until it hovered upright. He landed the white and blue-colored robot 40 feet from Varan. The monster struggled to get itself up on all fours.

"Maser online!" Heath shouted. "But I think it's only going to be good for one shot."

"Roger." Rieger looked over at Martinez. "Bob, make it count."

"I will."

Rieger called up the link to the weapons systems officer's helmet-mounted display. The red, computer generated crosshairs settled over Varan. The monster was up on all fours and turned to face Danguard Ace.

A shrill _beeeeep_ sounded in Rieger's helmet as the crosshairs came to rest at the base of Varan's neck.

"Good tone," Martinez announced. "Firing maser."

A bluish-white beam burst from Danguard Ace's chest. It struck Varan in the shoulder. The monster howled as the beam burned through its thick skin.

More beeps echoed throughout the cockpit.

"Maser overheating!" warned Heath.

"Keep at it, Bob," Rieger ordered.

"But the beam emitters are going to melt," said Heath.

"Then they melt. We've only got one shot at this. Bob, keep firing."

"I never intended to stop."

Smoke and flame rose from Varan's neck. The monster unleashed an agonized wail.

A gusher of blood and skin exploded from Varan. He tumbled backwards and crashed on the ground.

"Disengaging maser," reported Martinez.

The beam shut off. Danguard Ace stomped over to the fallen monster. Gray smoke billowed from its neck and shoulder. A lake-sized pool of blood spread around it.

Still Varan twitched with life.

_Why do these things have to be so damn hard to kill?_

"Heath. Can we still use the left side rail gun?"

"Hang on, Sir." Danguard's engineer looked over his screens. "Yes. Left side rail gun is still functioning."

"Thank God. Bob, I got this."

"Weapons control is yours, Major."

Danguard Ace brought up its left arm, the only arm it now had. A large tube emerged from the side. A steady hum went through the robot as Rieger aimed for the gaping hole in Varan's shoulder and neck.

A thump came from the rail gun. The 100-pound projectile reached mach five as it tore through Varan's insides. Rieger fired three more hyper-velocity rounds into the wound.

Varan closed his eyes, finally dead.

Rieger let out a sigh of relief and slumped in his seat. "Well, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Martinez looked over his shoulder at him. "Yeah. Sure."

Heath shook his head. "I can't believe we're still operational. We've got fried circuits, damage to our solar collector, cracks in two of our battery units. We're even missing an arm, and the number one engine is down."

"But we should still be able to fly back to base," Rieger said.

Heath gaped at him, as though he couldn't believe he'd actually made the suggestion.

"C'mon, Heath. You know Danguard Ace inside and out. You know we can fly this thing on just one engine."

"Well, yes, but we can't push it, especially with the damage to our batteries."

"Then just sing out if there's a problem with the engine or the power supply."

"Yes, Sir." Heath turned back to his console, his nervousness evident.

"Just one more thing before we get going, Major," said Martinez.

"What's that?"

"Don't forget to pick up our other arm."

**XXXXX**

With its severed right arm clutched in its left hand, Danguard Ace flew over the Rocky Mountains. Several times the engine temperature neared the red line and they experienced sudden power drop-offs. But Rieger nursed the giant robot through it as they reached the Teton Range in Wyoming.

"Lair, Danguard Ace on approach vector."

"Lair copies, Danguard Ace. IFF confirmed, voice recognition confirmed. Danguard Ace, cleared for landing."

"Roger."

Part of the ground below slid away, revealing a large metal platform. Rieger eased the damaged Danguard Ace onto it, then shut off the engine. All his muscles loosened as the platform lowered them three hundred feet below the surface to Danguard Base, aka "The Lair," home to the US Air Force's 1st Monster Assault Wing, or MAW-1.

After Danguard Ace had been secured, Rieger, Martinez and Heath exited the cockpit and boarded the elevator in the robot's back. It lowered them to the floor of the spacious hangar, where dozens of technicians and engineers looked at the battered Danguard Ace, then to its three-man crew.

"You should see the other guy," Rieger grinned at them.

Someone whistled nearby. Rieger turned to a tall, muscular black man wearing a tan and olive Airman Battle Uniform.

"You guys still haven't learned to take care of your toys, huh?" commented Senior Master Sergeant Greg Hopkins of the Air Force Security Forces.

"I think we were lucky to get back here at all," said Heath.

Rieger gave the tech sergeant a dismissive wave. "Aw, he's exaggerating."

Martinez exchanged looks with Hopkins, then shook his hand back and forth in a "so-so" gesture.

"Gentlemen." A round man with thinning black hair approached them.

They snapped attention and saluted Major General Frank Grimaldi, the commander of MAW-1.

"At ease. Good job today." He looked up at Danguard Ace. "At least when it comes to eliminating Varan and saving Salt Lake City. Not so much on bringing our robot back in one piece."

"It could have been worse, Sir," said Rieger.

"Let's see if you feel that way when we submit the repair bill to The Pentagon." The General took another look at the damaged Danguard Ace. "Doctor Kawasumi is not going to be happy about this."

"Please, I can handle the doc."

Hopkins looked at Rieger with a doubtful expression. "Good luck with that, Sir."

**XXXXX**

After their de-briefing, Rieger headed to his quarters to shower and change. He was about to head to the mess hall when someone pounded on his door. The veins in his neck stuck out. He didn't need to play three guesses to figure out who stood on the other side.

Rieger pressed a button on the wall. The door slid open to reveal a lithe Japanese woman with smooth, beautiful features, long black hair and glasses.

"Doctor Kawasumi." He gave a slight bow.

"What did you do to my robot?" She stormed into his room.

"Hey, I didn't do that. Varan did that."

Hiroko Kawasumi, formerly of the Japanese Self-Defense Force's Kaiju Response Team, glared at him as the door slid closed. "Danguard Ace lost an arm. The beam emitters for the maser have all but melted. The armor plating in multiple areas will have to be replaced, along with the shoulder-mounted gatling guns."

"What can I tell you? These monsters are tough. They don't go down without putting up a hell of a fight."

"Then you should use the weapons more instead of resorting to hand-to-hand combat. That's why I installed them."

"We do, but sometimes it's hard to keep these monsters from getting up close and personal."

Dr. Kawasumi's eyes narrowed. "Do you have any idea how long it will take to repair Danguard Ace? I will likely have to stay up all night just to assess all the damage."

"Hey, I'm sorry, Doc." Rieger raised his hands, hoping to calm the scientist. "Let me make it up to you."

Dr. Kawasumi stepped closer to him. "How do you intend to do that?"

"How about dinner at a nice restaurant?"

She tilted her head and folded her arms.

"Um . . . dinner at a really, _really _nice restaurant?"

"Uh-huh."

"Followed by a night of red hot passion at a really nice hotel?"

A wry grin formed on Dr. Kawasumi's lips. She reached out and put her arms around Rieger's shoulders. "That will work."

He smiled and kissed her.

**XXXXX**

_An unexpected, but welcome development._

That was what Major General Arash Karimi thought as he watched the TV monitor in his cabin. It showed overhead footage from the battle earlier today between Varan and Danguard Ace. Despite its victory over the monster, the American robot had lost one arm and sustained other damage.

"The Americans will need a great deal of time to repair their robot," commented Colonel Jalal Borhani, Karimi's chief of staff. "They will certainly not have it ready by the time our operation commences."

"I believe you are correct." The stocky, bearded Karimi leaned back in his leather chair. Even if Danguard Ace had been fully functional, he had every confidence his forces would be able to defeat the robot. Still, he had to be grateful to Allah for delivering such a severe blow to the infidels. Karimi and the men under him would need to rely on His help and guidance to see them through this most audacious plan.

The General's attention drifted away from the TV. Thirty-five years it had taken him to reach this point. Thirty-five years of cultivating allies, eliminating enemies, accumulating wealth and distinguishing himself in battle during the war with Iraq. He commanded the Pasdaran, what the infidels called the Revolutionary Guards, the most powerful entity in Iran. More powerful than even the government. For all practical purposes, the Pasdaran _was _the government. That meant Karimi had no difficulty making it even more powerful. Under his command, the Pasdaran increased its manpower, built up its strategic missile forces and expanded its commercial enterprises. It even boasted a real navy, not just a bunch of patrol boats and suicide speedboats. His business and diplomatic ties helped him strike a deal with the Russians to build the Pasdaran frigates, cruisers, even a pair of modified Kiev-class aircraft carriers, including the one he was currently on.

But all that was nothing compared to the weapons within the three converted oil tankers that sailed with his fleet.

Karimi felt the urge to laugh. All these years the Americans blustered and stomped their feet about how the Iranians could not be allowed to possess nuclear weapons. He never imagined his campaign of deception would work this well.

_What would the Americans and their infidel allies think if they knew the truth?_

America. The very name made him want to spit. Who were they to dictate what weapons Iran could possess? His ancestors had ruled half the known world when America was nothing more than a land covered by vast forests and populated by savages.

Well no more. No more demands. No more threats. He would make certain of that.

"Tell our analysts to go over all the footage available on the battle between Danguard Ace and Varan. I want them to determine the exact nature of robot's damage and how long it will take to repair."

"Yes, Sir." Borhani replied. "Though I doubt we will have to face Danguard Ace, given the beating it took. The so-called Guardian Monsters concern me more."

Karimi scoffed. "You worry too much, Colonel."

"It is my job to worry, especially considering what monsters like Godzilla, King Kong and Mothra have done to large threats in the past, both biological and mechanical."

Karimi said nothing. He just reached for a remote control on his desk and clicked a few buttons. The monitor divided into three screens, each one showing a large, robotic gorilla dark gold in color.

"One Mechakong is sufficient to deal with Guardian Monsters like King Kong, Mothra or Anguirus. As for Godzilla, as powerful as he is, even he cannot stand up to an assault by three Mechakongs."

Karimi continued to stare at the Mechakongs. Pride surged through him. This was, by far, his greatest achievement. The Americans and Japanese were fools, only using their giant robots to fight monsters. Weapons like that were meant to grind an enemy to dust.

America was entering its final days, and its death would herald the rebirth of the Persian Empire.

General Karimi, and his Mechakongs, would make certain of that.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	2. Chapter 2

_Fifty-seven . . . fifty-eight . . . fifty-nine._

A sheen of sweat covered Rieger's lean body as he continued his morning regimen of 100 push-ups, which had been preceded by 100 sit-ups. He'd have to wait until he got back to The Lair to do his free weights and treadmill.

_Sixty . . . sixty-one . . . sixty-two._

On his 63rd push-up, a pair of dainty feet appeared in front of him. He looked up, admiring the smooth, slender legs.

Hiroko Kawasumi, clad in nothing but a blue silken pajama top, smiled down at him. "I think that would be more enjoyable with me underneath you."

"I'm not gonna argue with you on that one."

He finished the rest of his push-ups, sprang to his feet and kissed Hiroko. "So, did last night make up for me breaking your robot?"

She gave him a wry grin. "Almost."

"Geez, you're a hard woman to please."

"Forgive me for being overprotective of my pride and joy."

Rieger gently placed his hands on Hiroko's hips. "What if I promised I'll be more careful with Danguard Ace in the future?"

She leaned closer to him. "You lie."

He frowned, then tickled Hiroko's sides. She yelped and playfully smacked his chest.

"I'm gonna hit the shower." Rieger gave her a quick kiss before heading off to the bathroom.

He passed by their bed, the sheets tangled and the comforter on the floor. Memories of last night flooded his mind, making him smile. He'd had to wait two weeks for their night of romance. Repairs to Danguard Ace had taken up much of Hiroko's time. Luckily, things were proceeding ahead of schedule. Many of the fried circuits and computer chips had been replaced, the right arm had been reattached, and new gatling guns had been installed. Engine number one still needed to be fixed. So did the maser. That would take the longest. Hopefully within a month, Danguard Ace would fully functional.

_Let's just pray Gigan or Spiga don't decide to go on a rampage._

Fortunately for MAW-1, the world was quiet. At least when it came to monsters. The usual conventional problems still existed. North Korea announced another long-range missile test, which had the US, South Korea and Japan concerned. The Taliban had launched a big offensive against the government of Afghanistan. The US Navy was keeping an eye on the Iranian fleet headed to Venezuela to participate in a joint exercise with that country's military. Last he heard, the Iranians were about 500 miles from the Eastern Seaboard. This worried the folks at the Pentagon. Not so much Rieger. He doubted the Iranians were stupid enough to attack US soil.

He stepped into the shower, letting the warm water wash over him. Again he thought of Hiroko. Seven months now they had been together. Many times he couldn't believe he was with someone like her. Hiroko was not only beautiful, but brilliant, while he was . . .

Well, he wasn't dumb. Dumb people didn't fly advanced fighter jets like the F-22, or get picked for the Thunderbirds or test pilot duty, or command a giant robot. Jim Rieger considered himself a smart guy.

But Hiroko was on a level far beyond just smart. She'd obtained degrees in computers, engineering and robotics from the Tokyo Institute of technology before the age of 25. She could speak four other languages besides Japanese fluently. She'd been instrumental in building the JSDF's next generation of anti-monster – or for them, anti-kaiju – robots.

Thankfully, Hiroko did not flaunt her genius, or make others feel insignificant because of it. She was very personable and down to earth, with a wry sense of humor. Work didn't dominate her life. She liked to hike and take judo classes, and happened to be a huge professional wrestling fan.

How could he not fall for a woman like that?

_Yeah, life is good._

Rieger toweled himself off and changed into his ACUs. He had just stepped out of the bathroom when Hiroko called from the living room, "Jim. Please come in here."

He stopped, holding his breath. Something about Hiroko's tone didn't sit right with him.

Tensing, he walked across the bedroom and stepped through the door into the living room.

_What the hell?_

A tall, muscular, unsmiling man with bronze skin and Polynesian features stood in the middle of the room.

"Who the hell are you?"

"My name is not important," the man replied. "I am simply here to deliver them."

"What? Deliver who?"

"Jim."

He looked to Hiroko, who now wore a white blouse and jeans. She nodded toward the bureau where the TV sat. Rieger followed her gaze and received another surprise.

_No way._

Two tiny women, just a few inches tall, with black hair and red and white flowery skirts stood beside the TV.

"Greetings, Major Rieger," they both said.

Rieger forced himself to quickly get over the shock of meeting Earth's Cosmos, or Mothra's fairies as many called them, in the flesh. He only knew the little women from the reports he'd read on them, many of which had been classified Ultra Top Secret.

"Ladies. It's an honor to meet you." He bowed.

"Thank you. That is very kind of you."

"So, um, what brings you here?" he asked.

"We have come to bring you a warning."

"Of course," Rieger muttered. Somehow he doubted Earth's Cosmos would come to Wyoming for a vacation.

"We have sensed a great darkness approaching your shores," said Earth's Cosmos.

"A kaiju?" asked Hiroko.

"We are not sure. The sensations we feel from Mother Earth are not the same as when a creature of great evil prepares to attack. But the sense of darkness is still there. It has spurred the Guardian Monsters into action."

"You mean they're on their way to the US?" asked Rieger.

"Yes."

He clenched his jaw, continuing to stare at Earth's Cosmos. Seconds passed before he looked over to Hiroko. "I think we better get back to The Lair."

**XXXXX**

Rieger and Hiroko got into their 4x4 and drove away from the rustic-looking Teton Mountain Lodge. The no-name "Delivery Man" sat in the back carrying a basket that contained Earth's Cosmos. Hiroko called Danguard Base on a secure satellite phone to give them a SITREP – Situation Report. General Grimaldi told them to report to the main conference room as soon as they arrived.

When they stepped inside, Grimaldi sat at the head of a long, polished oak table that bore the eagle and shield seal of the US Air Force. A stout, blond man sat to the general's left. Colonel Carl Phillips, the base XO. To Grimaldi's right sat a bald, bull-like man. Major Pete Summers, head of base security. Next to him was a tall, slender black woman. Major Nadine Blake, MAW-1's intelligence officer. Captain Martinez, Technical Sergeant Heath and Senior Master Sergeant Hopkins also sat in on the meeting.

The Delivery Man set the basket down on the table as Rieger and Hiroko took their seats. He lowered the front of the basket and Earth's Cosmos walked out. More than one pair of eyes, including General Grimaldi's, widened at the sight of the tiny women.

"Greetings." They bowed to everyone.

Grimaldi shifted in his seat, regaining his composure. "Ladies. Welcome to Danguard Base. I'm General Grimaldi, commander of the First Monster Assault Wing."

"A pleasure to meet you, General."

"Likewise. I understand from Doctor Kawasumi you've come with a warning. Some sort of threat to the United States."

"Not only to your country, but to the world."

Earth's Cosmos told Grimaldi and the others exactly what they had told Rieger and Hiroko back at the Teton Mountain Lodge, about some great darkness approaching America, and the Guardian Monsters rallying against it.

"You have nothing more specific?" asked Major Blake. "What type of threat we're facing? Where it might strike first?"

"No." Earth's Cosmos shook their heads. "For the moment, all we can sense is Mother Earth's fear and worry over this evil. It is like a gathering storm, growing stronger with time, ready to unleash its fury upon the unsuspecting people of the world."

Grimaldi let out a long breath. Rieger could see the frustration on the face of his CO.

"Can you at least tell us if it's some sort of monster?" Grimaldi asked.

"We are not certain. All we know is that this threat is immense in nature."

Rieger groaned. That was even more cryptic than the "darkness" stuff.

"If the Guardian Monsters are on their way here," said Major Summers, "then we have to assume they're after another monster."

"Or monsters," Martinez added. "There have been plenty of times when more than one has attacked."

"It could be aliens for all we know," Blake suggested. "Or something we can't even comprehend."

"General," Colonel Phillips said. "We can't go to the Pentagon with something this vague. Despite what Earth's Cosmos have done in the past, our superiors are going to want more proof of this threat before they start mobilizing our forces."

Grimaldi looked to Phillips, then to Earth's Cosmos. Several seconds of silence passed before he spoke. "Unfortunately, ladies, the Colonel is right. We need something more concrete before the Pentagon and the President can act."

Earth's Cosmos closed their eyes and lowered the heads.

"But," Grimaldi continued, "there are some things we can do to try and locate and identify this threat. Colonel Phillips, get in touch with the Navy. Find out if they've had any anomalous sonar contacts in the Atlantic or Pacific Oceans."

"Yes, Sir."

"Major Blake. Contact US Geological Survey and see if they've had any unexplained seismic activity over the past month. When you're finished with them, get on the horn to US Space Command and see if they've picked up any unidentified contacts beyond Earth's atmosphere."

"Yes, Sir."

"Major Summers, Master Sergeant Hopkins. I want the base on Level One Security Alert. Also schedule some drills for your men. I want them ready in case this threat shows up."

"Yes, Sir." Both Summers and Hopkins nodded.

Grimaldi looked down the table at Hiroko. "Doctor Kawasumi. I know you and your people have done yeoman's work repairing Danguard Ace. But now they have to work even harder. I want that robot ready to fight in days, not weeks."

A shocked expression fell over Hiroko's face. "General, I don't know if that's possible. Danguard Ace is the most sophisticated machine on the planet. We're still in the process of overhauling engine number one. The new right arm still doesn't have its full range of mobility. And the maser . . . it will not be fully operational for another three weeks, and that is a conservative estimate."

"No one said it was easy, but from the way Earth's Cosmos are talking, I don't think we have three weeks. We need Danguard Ace ready as soon as possible."

Hiroko's mouth silently hung open for a few moments. "I appreciate your concern, General, and the warning from Earth's Cosmos. But work on something as advanced as Danguard Ace cannot be hurried. I cannot see how we could have it fully functional -"

"We may not be able to afford the luxury of a 'fully functional' robot," Grimaldi cut her off. "Just concentrate on the most critical systems. Whatever you can't fix, well, we'll just have to live with it."

"Can they live with it?" Hiroko waved her hand toward Rieger, Martinez and Heath. "They'll be piloting Danguard Ace. How can we allow them go into battle with a robot that is not one hundred percent operational?"

"I have to agree with General Grimaldi on this." Rieger turned to her.

Shock, and some anger, registered on Hiroko's face as he went on. "Whatever this darkness is Earth's Cosmos are talking about, it sounds really bad. Maybe beyond really bad if they've come all the way from Infant Island to warn us. Even a Danguard Ace at sixty, seventy percent is better than none."

"You're willing to take that risk?"

Rieger, Martinez and Heath all nodded.

"You gotta do what you gotta do," Rieger said. "That's why we get paid the big bucks."

Hiroko's lips tightened. Worry swirled in her eyes. More than anything Rieger wished he could reach out, take hold of her hand, and reassure her he'd be fine. But that would not be appropriate here.

"Doctor Kawasumi," Grimaldi said. "You can have whatever personnel you require to make repairs to Danguard Ace. I'll try to bring in more engineers and technicians from other bases, and other services, to assist. Also, Major Rieger, Captain Martinez, Sergeant Heath. You're to give the doctor whatever assistance she needs. Getting Danguard Ace combat ready is our number one priority. Everything else is a distant second. Understood?"

A chorus of, "Yes, Sir," followed.

"You're dismissed. Let's get to work."

The MAW-1 staff exited the conference room.

"Jim," Hiroko whispered to him. They slowed their pace as she continued. "I don't . . . I don't know if what the General is asking is possible. You can't repair something like Danguard Ace in a few days. I don't like the thought of sending you and the others into battle in a robot that's not fully prepared to face whatever this threat is."

"Then just get us as close to fully prepared as possible. We'll handle the rest."

He laid a gentle hand on Hiroko's arm. "I have faith in you, Hiroko. We all do."

Her eyes shifted from his hand to his face. She forced a brief smile.

Rieger responded with a smile of his own. He meant what he'd said to her. If anyone could find a way to fix Danguard Ace in a few days, Hiroko could.

He just hoped that he, Martinez and Heath could stop whatever it was that threatened their country, and the rest of the world.

**XXXXX**

General Karimi stood in his cabin in the Kiev-class carrier _Cyrus the Great, _gazing at the row of nine men in brown flightsuits. His eyes came to rest of one in particular, a man barely 5'8, but with a firm build and a neatly trimmed black beard. Karimi stopped himself from grinning as he took a breath.

"Today is the day we have planned and prayed and prepared for for many years."

He walked down the line of pilots. "For decades, our nation was at the mercy of the Great Satan and its allies in the West. We were forced to live under their puppet rulers who turned their backs on our noble past and who corrupted The Faith. Even when we swept them aside in the great revolution, their foreign masters still sought to control us. They continue to tell us how to run our own affairs, what weapons we can have, what countries we can and cannot deal with. They demand we abandon our faith and embrace their depraved way of life. They wish us to be weak."

Karimi's voice rose. "But we are not weak! We are strong. Our faith gives us strength. Our past gives us strength. The Great Satan and its wicked allies seek to weaken us because they fear us. Because they know we Persians once ruled much of the known world, and that we have it in ourselves to do so again."

When he reached the last pilot, Karimi spun on his heel and walked back down the line. "The days of America making demands on our people ends, now. We shall make them submit to our faith or die. They have raped and pillaged our country in the past, now we shall do the same to them! America will become the first colony of the new Persian Empire. You men, shall make that a reality."

He turned to face them, head held high. _"Allahu Akbar."_

"_Allahu Akbar," _the pilots repeated.

Karimi dismissed them. They began filing out of the cabin when he called out, "Captain Ebtehaj. A moment."

The short pilot with the firm build stopped. When the other pilots had left the cabin and shut the hatch, Karimi walked over to Ebtehaj and clamped a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you ready, nephew?"

"Yes, uncle. As you said, this is the day we have all been waiting for. I am anxious to make the Great Satan pay for everything it has done to our country."

Karimi smiled wide. "Make our family proud."

"Our family, our country, all believers. I will make them all proud."

Karimi smiled again and embraced Ebtehaj. He wished him luck before the young pilot left the cabin.

Minutes later, Karimi stood on _Cyrus the Great's _bridge, watching three Huey helicopters carrying the pilots lift off from the carrier's angled deck. They flew off in three different directions, each one headed for a specially modified oil tanker.

He squared his shoulders as he gazed out at the fleet, then to the horizon. An anxious feeling swept through him. His mind took him back in time to that day in 1979 when he and hundreds of other students stormed the American Embassy in Tehran. He recalled the feeling of pride, of invincibility. They had taken on the Great Satan and defeated it. For 444 days they held those 66 Americans hostages.

But what did they have to show for it after? They had embarrassed the United States for a little while. Now many in that country had forgotten about it. Every once in a while their surrogates would strike the Great Satan. But the bombing of an embassy or a dance club was but a flesh wound to such a large country. They healed and moved on.

Karimi had long since moved past his revolutionary fervor of 1979. The storming of the American Embassy had been based purely on emotion. A more practical approach was needed for a decisive victory over the Great Satan. He knew it would require time, careful planning, and a weapon the Americans would have no hope to match.

He lost track of time, picturing great cities like New York, Chicago and Los Angeles reduced to smoldering rubble. He envisioned himself in the White House, watching the American President formally surrender to Iran.

Soon he wouldn't have to imagine it. Soon it would become a reality.

"Excuse me, General."

Karimi turned to the portly Captain Hassanzadeh, commanding officer of the _Cyrus the Great. _"Yes, Captain?"

"The Mechakongs are manned and fully prepped, and are awaiting your order to launch."

Karimi took a deep breath and held it. The moment was finally here.

He took the phone from a communications specialist. "This is Sovereign. Commence Starfall. Repeat, commence Starfall."

He asked Hassanzadeh for a pair of binoculars. The captain quickly got them. Karimi held them to his eyes and focused on the converted tanker _Kangan. _The massive ship's deck split open. He tensed, waiting . . . waiting . . .

A white and orange contrail burst from the _Kangan_. The large jet pack carried Mechakong One higher into the brilliant blue sky. It arced over and headed west.

Toward America.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	3. Chapter 3

"Missile launch! We have missile launch!"

The shout from Sonarman Torrez sent Captain Don Lacy hurrying through the control room of the _USS Columbus._

"Bearing," he said as he stepped into the sonar room.

The skinny Torrez pressed a hand to one of his headphones as he stared at the electronic green waterfall display on his screen. "Bearing zero-eight-four, eighty-two hundred meters. Hang on, Captain . . . second missile launch. I have a second missile launch. Bearing two-two-seven, eighty-eight hundred meters."

"What course are they on?"

Torrez's jaw clenched. "Due west, Captain."

Lacy felt his blood boil. _Crazy sons of bitches. _His Los Angeles-class attack submarine had been shadowing the Iranian Fleet since they entered the Atlantic. He'd grown more than a little nervous the closer they got to the US mainland. But he figured it was the Iranians' way of thumbing their noses at his country. Never did he imagine . . .

_Well, they have._

Lacy rushed to the cramped communications shack nearby. "Lieutenant Wise," he called to the communications officer. "Contact Fleet Forces Command. Tell them we've detected two missile launches from the Iranian fleet at CONUS." He used the acronym for Continental United States.

"Aye, Captain."

Lacy headed back to the control room. "COB," he said to the Chief of the Boat. "Sound General Quarters. Weps, load all torpedo tubes with warshot. Open VLS tubes and standby with Harpoons."

"Aye, Captain," replied the Weapons Systems Officer.

COB's level voice echoed throughout the _Columbus_, ordering all personnel to their battle stations. Lacy fought off his building anxiety as he scanned the surface with the Type 18 Periscope. The RemoteReality camera system gave an instant omni-directional view of the surrounding ocean, and the Iranian ships. Two of them, large oil tankers, were obscured by clouds of gray smoke. It had to be from the just-launched missiles.

Lacy gave the coordinates of the ships to the Weapons Systems Officer and ordered him to prepare firing solutions with the Harpoons. They'd have to fire and get the hell out of here. The Iranians had a few Russian-built Kashin-class destroyers and Krivak-class frigates, which carried a wide array of anti-submarine weapons. Then there were the enemy subs, at least two Kilos and a Nahang-class.

Not the best of odds.

"Captain, I have a solution on both Iranian missile ships," reported the Weapons Systems Officer, Lieutenant Commander Palmer.

"Good." Lacy nodded. "Stand by to -"

"Captain!" Torrez blurted. "Large subsurface contact, bearing one-zero-seven, six thousand meters. It sounded like it dropped out the bottom of one of their oil tankers."

"Heading?"

A pause. "It's coming up on our six. Speed, twenty-five knots and increasing. Fifty-nine hundred meters and closing."

"Helm, come about. Weps. Firing solution on the new contact, designate Sierra Thirty-Five."

Both men acknowledged Lacy's orders.

He placed a hand on the periscope stand as _Columbus _swung around.

"Five thousand meters and closing," announced Torrez. "Forty-nine hundred meters . . . Forty-eight hundred meters."

"Captain, we have a solution on Sierra Thirty-Five," said Palmer.

"Fire Torpedoes One and Two."

"Fire Torpedoes One and Two, aye."

Lacy tensed as Torrez continued to call out the shrinking distance between them and their target. Forty-two hundred meters . . . 4,100 meters . . . 4,000 meters.

"Torpedo One, launch," Palmer called out. "Torpedo Two, launch."

Two deep thumps reverberated through the _Columbus. _Lacy imagined the torpedoes slicing through the water toward . . . well, whatever the hell it was the Iranians dropped on them.

Two sustained rumbles washed over the sub.

"Direct hit!" said Palmer. "Direct hit by both torpedoes."

Lacy let out a quick, relieved breath. Now they just had to knock out those missile ships before –

"Target still approaching!" Torrez yelled.

"What?" Lacy swung around toward the sonar room. "Are you sure, Torrez?"

"Yes, Captain. We didn't even slow it down. Target twenty-nine hundred meters and closing. Speed, thirty-five knots and increasing."

Lacy suppressed a shiver. What the hell did the Iranians have that could survive two Mark 48 ADCAP torpedoes?

"Fire Torpedoes Three and Four. Reload Tubes One and Two with warshot."

Seconds later two more torpedoes shot out of _Columbus' _tubes. Instead of the rumble of explosions, the sound of two dull thuds penetrated the sub's hull.

"Negative detonation," reported Palmer. "Repeat, negative detonation. The warheads didn't have time to arm."

"Hard to port!" ordered Lacy. "Full speed."

"Hard to port, aye." The helmsman twisted the control wheel to the left. "Full speed, aye."

Sweat formed on Lacy's brow as _Columbus' _nuclear-powered engine pushed her through the water.

_C'mon, c'mon._

Something crashed into the boat. Lacy fell to the deck. The lights went out. Men screamed.

**XXXXX**

Mechakong Three wrapped its right hand around the rear of _Columbus _and squeezed. The boat's steel hull crumpled like paper. Water rushed in, quickly filling the compartments.

Mechakong Three unclenched its hand. The mangled submarine plummeted toward the bottom of the Atlantic, taking all 129 crewmen with her.

The giant robot watched _Columbus _until it vanished into the darkened water. It then turned around and followed its two airborne brothers to the United States.

**XXXXX**

Rieger looked at the main cockpit monitor, which showed the feed from Martinez's helmet-mounted display. The gunsite moved left and right, up and down. The rail gun in the left arm easily moved with it, as had the right arm rail run, the shoulder-mounted gatling guns and particle beam cannons in the eyes.

"Targeting systems operating at one hundred percent," announced Martinez. Next to him, Heath let out a relieved breath and slumped in his seat. The paunchy sergeant had been largely responsible for getting the targeting systems back online.

"Well, that's one we can cross off the to-do list," Rieger said. "Only two thousand more to go."

Martinez cracked a grin. Heath frowned.

"All right, let's run a check of the Synthetic Aperture Radar. We had some problems with the imaging -"

Rieger halted in mid-sentence when he noticed a new image on the main monitor. It was General Grimaldi.

"Major. Captain. Sergeant."

"Yes, General?" Rieger responded.

"I just received word from NORAD. They're currently tracking two objects launched by the Iranian fleet, one headed toward Washington, the other New York."

"Oh my God." Heath stared at Grimaldi's image, mouth agape.

Rieger's stomach tightened. "Is this the threat Earth's Cosmos were talking about?"

"We don't know for certain. But I'm willing to bet it is. In addition, the Navy's picked up a large underwater contact heading for Norfolk. They've also lost contact with the submarine that's been shadowing the Iranian fleet."

Rieger let out a slow breath. Tremors raced up the back of his legs. What the hell had the Iranians launched against his country? Nukes? He doubted it. The nutjobs in Tehran had to know that blowing up two American cities would result in their country being turned into a radioactive slagheap.

No, it had to be something else. Something they felt gave them the edge over the US.

"The President has raised the alert level to DEFCON Two," Grimaldi said. "What's the status of Danguard Ace?"

"We just completed tests on the targeting systems," replied Rieger. "They're all in working order. Replacement of engine one is almost complete, but it still has to be tested. We also only have sixty percent of the new emitters for the maser installed."

Grimaldi groaned and looked away for a moment. "I want that new engine fitted ASAP. Direct all personnel to accomplish that task. And forget about testing. I need you in the field as soon as that new engine is operational."

"Yes, Sir."

"Let me know when you're finished. Grimaldi out."

The screen went black.

"This is not good." Heath shook his head. "How can we go into combat without the maser? It's the most powerful weapon we have."

"Danguard Ace is still pretty damn formidable, even without it." Rieger tried to reassure the sergeant. "We'll manage."

He bit his lip. As confident as he sounded, he knew they'd be better off with a working maser.

**XXXXX**

"Tally on the bandit," radioed Colonel Marco Truccolo, CO of the New Jersey Air National Guard's 177th Fighter Wing.

"Devil Six, can you identify?" asked the controller at Eastern Air Defense Sector HQ 180 miles away in Rome, New York.

Truccolo stared through the teardrop canopy of his F-16. All he saw was a large orange and gray contrail streaking toward Manhattan.

"That's a negative, Empire."

"Roger. Devil Six, per National Command Authority, you are cleared to engage and shoot down bandit. Repeat, engage and shoot down bandit."

"Devil Six copies. Moving to engage and shoot down bandit." Trucollo then radioed the three other jets in his flight. "Devil Six to all aircraft. Weapons free. Repeat, weapons free. Engage and shoot down bandit."

The other pilots acknowledged.

The F-16s rocketed over Staten Island. Trucollo's eyes remained fixed on bandit as it descended.

"Looks like that things gonna hit the southern tip of Manhattan," said Trucollo's wingman, Captain Douglas.

Trucollo took a shaky breath. He half-expected to see the brilliant flash of a nuke going off.

Instead the thing appeared to be slowing down. What missile does that?

A shrill beep came from his headphones. His Sidewinder missiles had picked up the bandit's heat signature.

"Devil Six, good tone."

"Devil Three, good tone," announced Captain Douglas.

The other two pilots reported the same.

"Devil Six, Fox Two!"

Trucollo's thumb mashed the fire button. Two Sidewinders blasted off the wingtip rails. Six other missiles joined it, racing toward the bandit.

He leaned forward in his ejection seat, scanning the target. The thing was huge and round. Actually, more stocky than round. Sunlight gleamed off its golden hide. Did it have a head?

Eight fireballs burst across the object.

"Empire, Devil Six. Direct hit on the bandit. Repeat, direct hit on the bandit."

Trucollo expected to flaming wreckage tumble into Upper New York Bay. He stiffened in shock as the object continued toward Manhattan.

It took a split second for him to regain his voice. "Empire. Bandit is not, I say again, not destroyed."

"Devil Six, did you say the bandit is not destroyed?"

"Affirmative." Frustration tinged Trucollo's voice. "We put eight Sidewinders in that thing and it's still going."

"Sir," radioed Douglas. "It looks like it's coming in for a landing."

Trucollo watched the bandit slow to a hover above Battery Park. He dipped his F-16's right wing and circled Southern Manhattan, trying to get a good look at this thing as it settled onto a mass of trees.

"Oh my God." He blinked a couple of times, making sure what he saw was real.

"Empire, Devil Six. Bandit identified. It's a giant robot gorilla."

A pause. "Devil Six. Please repeat that."

"I know it sounds crazy, but I am looking at a giant robot gorilla in Battery Park. It looks just like the one that crazy genius built back in the Sixties, the Mechakong."

Another pause. Trucollo groaned. He could just imagine the controller in Rome telling his superiors they had a crazy man flying one of their F-16s.

"Empire, do you acknowledge? I am not making this up. There is a robot version of King Kong in Ma-"

He cut himself off as a contrail shot out of the Mechakong's chest. He watched the missile soar over the water, headed right for . . .

_Oh dear God. No!_

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	4. Chapter 4

Trucollo felt sick as he watched the missile smash into the Statue of Liberty. A cloud of orange and black blotted out the great lady's chest. Her head and shoulders toppled over and crashed to the ground.

"Holy shit!" blurted Lieutenant Floyd in Devil One. "That thing just blew up the Statue of Liberty!"

The Mechakong stomped on the gray, circular form of Clinton Castle. Tracers burst from its massive shoulder-mounted cannons. Explosions tore apart the old, elongated building of Pier A. Mechakong moved out of the Battery Park and into the streets. Horror filled Colonel Trucollo as he watched the robot swing its massive arms. Skyscrapers shattered. Avalanches of glass, brick and mortar rained down on the people and vehicles in the crowded streets.

"Empire! That robot is wrecking Southern Manhattan. We need more forces here, now!"

Mechakong's cannons fired again. Gushers of fire erupted along the top floors of a large black skyscraper.

"Roger, Devil Six. We just picked up a live feed from a New York news station. Monster rules of engagement are in effect. You are cleared for weapons use within urban environments."

"Empire, be advised, we are armed for air-to-air engagement only. We are carrying no air-to-ground ordnance."

The controller in Rome paused. "Standby, Devil Six."

Trucollo projected his angry feelings at the man on the other end of the radio. Standby? Standby while a giant robot pummels Manhattan?

_And just what the hell can you do about it?_

Rage burned inside Trucollo as Mechakong advanced deeper into Manhattan. Dark gray debris clouds hung over the southern tip of the island. Huge buildings collapsed, Mechakong knocking them over like twigs. He couldn't begin to imagine how many people were dead down there.

"Devil Six, Empire."

_About time. _"Devil Six. Go, Empire."

"Devil Six, aircraft from the New Jersey and Massachusetts Air National Guards are being fitted with air-to-ground ordnance as we speak. But they will not be on station for at least twenty minutes to a half-hour."

"A half-hour! There won't be anything left of Manhattan in a half-hour!"

"You're ordered to strafe the robot. Try to slow it down. Buy time for our planes to get there."

Trucollo scowled. If Sidewinder missiles couldn't dent Mechakong, what chance did his F-16's cannon have?

"Roger, Empire. Devil Six out." He switched over to the squadron net. "You all heard that?"

"Yeah," replied Captain Douglas. "They must be nuts up in Rome."

"I won't argue, but we have our orders. Maybe at best we can distract it and give the civilians a chance to find shelter."

"Roger that," Douglas said in a less-than-confident tone. Trucollo couldn't blame his wingman. Those words sounded like BS to him as well.

The four F-16s of "The Jersey Devils" wheeled around and came at Mechakong from the east. Trucollo settled the gun pipper on the robot as it fired another missile from its chest. This one struck a grand, French-style white marble building.

New York City Hall.

A huge fireball rose from the old building.

"Bastard," Trucollo hissed. He squeezed the trigger on his control stick. The F-16 vibrated slightly as the multi-barrel cannon in its left wing root spat out 20mm shells. Tracers deflected off Mechakong's shoulders and head. The robot turned toward Trucollo just as he pulled up and banked left.

The three other pilots also strafed Mechakong. It looked as though it barely noticed.

"Devil Flight. Come around for another pass and -"

"Look out!" Floyd hollered. "We're tak-"

Something orange flashed in Trucollo's peripheral vision. He snapped his head left. Hundreds of pieces of flaming wreckage fell to the streets below.

Floyd's F-16.

He spotted another flash. Lightning bolts shot out of Mechakong's eyes and into the sky. One of them touched Captain Douglas' F-16. It vanished in a fireball.

"Evasive maneuvers!" shouted Trucollo. "Evas-"

A bright white flash consumed his vision. He turned away and heard a loud bang, followed by intense heat.

He felt nothing after that.

**XXXXX**

Excitement swelled within Captain Ebtehaj as Washington DC loomed ahead of him. He straightened in his seat in Mechakong One's cockpit, thinking of his uncle. He had never felt more honored in his life than when General Karimi named him the commander of this Mechakong, and assigned him to attack the non-believers' capital city. Many probably felt he only received this assignment due to the fact he and the general shared the same blood. They were just jealous fools. Several of his superiors considered him one of the most gifted pilots in the Iranian air force. His loyalty to the country and his devotion to The Faith were beyond reproach. He had earned his place in the cockpit of Mechakong One, and he would prove it to everyone.

He brought the robot to a hover over the Washington Navy Yard. When Ebtehaj landed, he crushed one of the rectangular, maroon brick buildings that dotted the base.

"Daei," he said to his lean, clean-shaven weapons systems officer. "Target one Noor on that ship."

"Yes, Captain."

Ebtehaj stared at the image of the destroyer _USS Barry_ on the monitor. The ship had been decommissioned for more than 30 years and now served as a museum. It posed no threat to Mechakong. But as his uncle had said, everything was a target.

The Noor anti-ship missile flew from the robot's chest. It streaked over the water and ripped through the _Barry's _island. Moments later the 165-kilogram warhead detonated. An enormous column of flame sprang from the ship.

Ebtehaj smiled wide as he walked Mechakong down the length of the Washington Navy Yard. Buildings crumbled underneath the robot's massive feet. Daei fired one bolt after another from the eyes. Dozens of fires spread through the neighborhoods surrounding the base.

Ebtehaj's heart thumped rapidly. He tightened his grip on the controls of Mechakong One as it moved into the heart of the American capital. Several old, marble buildings stood before him. He recognized them instantly from his countless briefings. Union Station. The Supreme Court Building. The US Capitol. The Washington Monument.

And, of course, the White House.

Two more Noor missiles flew from Mechakong. They hit the Capitol Building and exploded. The great dome collapsed into a mass of smoke and fire. The two shoulder-mounted 120mm cannons raked Union Station. The explosions flung chunks of marble in all directions. Flames poured out of the archways leading into the station.

Mechakong One continued through downtown Washington. It stomped the Library of Congress, the Supreme Court Building and the US Senate offices into rubble. The three 30mm gatling guns in the right knuckle shredded the front of the Department of Labor Building and the District Courthouse. Lightning bolts blasted the National Gallery of Art, the National Archives, the Justice Department Building and the Hoover Building, headquarters of the FBI. The eastern half of Constitution Avenue and The Mall turned into a sea of fire. Smoke and debris clouds hung over the city.

Mechakong One smashed through the National Museum of American History, heading straight for the Washington Monument. With one swipe of the arm the slender, pointy structure shattered. Ebtehaj then turned Mechakong toward the Reflecting Pool. A barrage of 120 mm shells streaked over the glittering blue water and crashed into the Lincoln Memorial. The statue of the assassinated President, and the structure surrounding it, disintegrated from the resulting explosions.

"Enemy planes!" called out Lieutenant Towfigh, Mechakong One's engineer and sensor officer. "To our rear!"

Ebtehaj turned the robot around. The monitor showed four stubby, single-engine jets with pointy noses. F-16s, probably out of nearby Andrews Air Force Base. Flashes of orange appeared under the wings of the lead jet. Two missiles raced across the sky toward Mechakong One.

"Close missile tube doors!"

"Closing missile tube doors," replied Daei.

The thick, metal doors on the robot's chest slid closed, covering the tubes that held the Noor missiles. The American missiles – Ebtehaj thought they looked like AGM-65 Mavericks – exploded against Mechakong One's chest. He and his two companions barely felt the impact.

The F-16 banked away. A second one launched another volley of Maverick missiles. They, too, exploded against the robot without causing any damage.

A third F-16 lined up for another shot.

"Now it's our turn," said Daei. The WSO raised Mechakong One's right arm. Ebtehaj saw the targeting scope on the main monitor settle on the incoming F-16. The gatling guns fired for only half-a-second. A flurry of tracers shredded the F-16. The fourth American jet made a hard bank to the left. Daei tracked it and fired. The F-16 disintegrated.

The remaining enemy fighters swung around for another attack run. Daei activated the lightning dischargers in Mechakong One's eyes. The bolts obliterated the F-16s.

Ebtehaj chuckled. The US Air Force had always thought themselves so superior. Yet his Mechakong had dispatched four of their jets in less than a minute.

He hoped they sent more planes after him.

Mechakong One turned to the north. The White House showed up in the middle of the main monitor. Ebtehaj drew a deep breath. How he wanted to fire the lightning dischargers and turn the ultimate symbol of American arrogance into a smoldering hole. But General Karimi had been adamant. No harm was to come to the White House.

He had special plans for it.

**XXXXX**

Captain Rick Jeffcoat took a staggered breath as he stared at the main HD monitor in the _USS San Jacinto's _Combat Information Center. An enormous white wake sliced through the water, heading directly for the Norfolk Naval Base. He bit his lip and looked at another monitor, showing the feed from a shore camera. More than two dozens carriers, cruisers, destroyers, frigates, submarines, amphibious ships and support ships sat at the docks. Officers and sailors rushed aboard many of them. Jeffcoat's stomach dropped into a dark pit as he realized they would never get underway in time.

His Aegis cruiser may have been among them had they not already been scheduled to sail in a few hours.

_Now we might be the only chance this base has._

"Contact two thousand meters from the docks," reported the sonar operator. "Nineteen hundred meters."

"Mister Velez," Jeffcoat called to his anti-sub warfare officer. "Do you have a solution on the target?"

"Aye, Captain. Two Mark Fifties, loaded and ready."

"Fire."

"Firing, aye," replied Lieutenant Velez. "Torpedo One away . . . Torpedo Two away."

Jeffcoat clasped his hands behind his tall frame, his eyes flickering between the main monitor and the sonar operator, DePalma.

"Torpedoes one thousand meters from target and closing . . . nine hundred meters . . . eight hundred meters."

Jeffcoat's breathing increased. He fought to keep his face as stoic as possible. They'd already heard the reports from New York and Washington. The Mechakongs were wrecking both cities. The few planes the Air Force had sent against them hadn't even dented their hides before getting shot down.

_We can do it. "San Jac"_ was one of the most powerful warships in the world, with a vast array of missiles, guns and torpedoes. They had more than enough firepower to stop some damn giant robot.

"Two hundred meters," announced DePalma. "One hundred meters."

Jeffcoat held his breath and tensed, waiting for the impact."

"Forty . . . thirty . . . twenty . . . ten."

Two plumes of water rose alongside the huge wake.

"Direct hit," reported DePalma. "Direct hit by both fish."

A chill went up and down Jeffcoat's spine.

The wake did not stop.

A geyser of water exploded near the docks. The form of a gigantic, metal gorilla stood in the harbor, curtains of water falling from its golden body.

"My God." Jeffcoat gaped at the monitor.

Contrails shot from Mechakong's chest. Missiles. They soared over the water, headed for the anchored ships. Flames and smoke burst through the deck of the carrier _Theodore Roosevelt. _More explosions tore through the destroyer _Gravely _and the amphibious ship _Iwo Jima. _The robot's shoulder-mounted cannons fired. Fireballs sprouted along the length of the cruiser _Normandy _and the destroyer _Gonzalez._

Jeffcoat pushed aside his initial shock and turned to his weapons officer. "Mister Adams. Fire everything we've got at that thing."

"Aye, Captain."

_San Jacinto _turned toward the Mechakong as it picked up the submarine _Oklahoma City._ Several men and women in the CIC gasped as it flung the vessel like a javelin. Its bow smashed into an administration building, then tipped over and crashed onto a parking lot, flattening dozens of vehicles.

Jeffcoat felt miniature quakes around him. Harpoon and Tomahawk missiles shot out of the vertical launch tubes. The fore and aft five-inch guns thumped away. Streams of tracers from the 25mm cannons, the .50 caliber machine guns and the Phalanx gatling guns zipped through the air. A fireball burst on Mechakong's back. Another. Another. The robot staggered as hundreds of shells struck its hide.

Jeffcoat stepped closer to the monitor. "Keep it up. Don't let up for a second."

A Harpoon exploded against Mechakong's right side. A flash of orange and black blotted out its right shoulder. Mechakong swung around. Two missiles shot out of its chest.

Jeffcoat tensed. The Phalanx Close-in Weapons System growled, spitting out hundreds of 20mm rounds. Both enemy missiles exploded far from the _San Jacinto._ He let out a quick sigh of relief.

Lightning bolts shot out of Mechakong's eyes.

A massive quake rocked the ship_. _Jeffcoat tumbled backwards. His head cracked against one of the consoles.

He was unconscious when _San Jacinto _blew up.

**XXXXX**

President Steven Calhoun slowly ran a hand through his thinning blond hair as he watched the monitors in front of him. CNN and FOX News showed aerial images of the clouds of smoke that consumed Washington DC and Manhattan.

_How could I let this happen?_

He thumped the armrest of his chair with a fist and looked out the conference room window aboard Air Force One. A sleek, arrowhead-shaped F-22 fighter soared over the thick white clouds off the starboard wing. Blood pulsated through his cheeks. How could the Iranians have snowed him like this? He should have known they'd be up to something with a fleet that size.

_Military exercises with Venezuela my ass._

Now he had a war on his hands. A war on American soil.

The phone beside him rang. He spun in his chair and checked the caller ID. It was John McMillon, the Secretary of Defense.

Calhoun hit the speaker button. "John, what do you have?"

"Mister President, The East Coast Defense Sector has picked up Iranian aircraft inbound for Delaware. A mix of helicopters and jet fighters. That's also where the bulk of the Iranian fleet is headed."

"What are we doing to blow the sons of bitches away?"

"We're still trying to get organized. We lost a lot of combat aircraft in the attacks on the Mechakongs in New York and Washington. Plus half our Atlantic Fleet was damaged or destroyed in the attack on Norfolk."

"Forget about what we don't have. What do we have? For God's sake, John, we're being invaded. The United States of America is being invaded! We have to stop this."

"We are trying to do just that, Mister President. The Eighty-Second Airborne at Fort Bragg and the Marines at Camp Lejeune are being mobilized. All Army and Air National Guard units have been federalized and will be deployed to the Eastern Seaboard. The closest combat-ready naval assets to the East Coast we have is the _Stennis _carrier group. They're about three hundred miles off the Florida coast. I've ordered them re-routed toward the Iranian fleet."

"And what about Danguard Ace?" asked the President.

"I talked to General Grimaldi," replied McMillon. "They were in the middle of replacing one of the robot's engines when the attack occurred. He said Danguard Ace should be operational within the hour."

"And by that time we could have a couple thousand Iranian marines on US soil. And those Mechakongs could start destroying other cities. Tell Grimaldi I need that robot kicking Iranian ass now!"

"I'll let him know."

President Calhoun opened his mouth to reply when Air Force One went into a sharp left bank.

"What the hell?"

"What is it, Mister President?" asked SECDEF McMillon.

"I don't know. I'll call you back."

Calhoun got out of his seat just as the door to the conference room opened. A dark-haired man with the build of an NFL linebacker stood before him.

"Mister President," said Agent Tom Niri, the head of the Presidential Protective Detail. "NORAD picked up a large airborne object headed our way."

"What sort of object?"

When Niri told him, Calhoun darted through the compartments until he reached the cockpit door. After confirming his identity, the pilot, an Air Force Colonel, let him in.

"Colonel, alert our escorts. Tell them under no circumstances are they to fire on the approaching contact."

The Colonel stared at him, a look of grave concern on his face.

"Do it."

"Yes, Mister President."

The Colonel frowned as he radioed the F-22 pilots shadowing Air Force One.

Calhoun remained in the cockpit, staring out the windows. A few minutes passed before he spotted it. The photos and videos of it he had seen in the past did not do it justice. Seeing it for himself was nothing short of awe-inspiring.

His eyes followed the giant, gold and brown winged creature as it flew past Air Force One and its escorts, heading east. He nodded, feeling that finally, something was going America's way.

_Go get 'em, Mothra._

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	5. Chapter 5

Rieger stared at the computer screen on his console, studying the specs of the original Mechakong Dr. Hu used to attack Tokyo back in the 1960s. He then switched his gaze to the main monitor, which displayed feeds from the news networks covering the attacks back east. Rage burned in his gut as the robot gorillas laid waste to New York, Washington and Norfolk with missiles, shells and lightning bolts.

He turned back to the computer and exited the screen. Looking at the original specs was a waste of time. The Iranian Mechakongs were light years beyond what Dr. Hu had built.

_When are they going to finish installing that engine?_

Rieger returned his attention to the monitor. The Mechakong in New York had advanced to Central Park, leaving rubble and multiple fires in its wake. The Mechakong in DC had taken to the air, heading north, probably toward Baltimore. The final Mechakong still smashed and blasted its way through Norfolk.

On top of that, Iranian helicopters had touched down in Delaware and deposited soldiers in Wilmington, Rehoboth Beach and Dover, the state capital and home to one of the Air Force's most important bases. Occupying Delaware not only cut the Mid-Atlantic states in half, it also provided the Iranians with a central base to support their Mechakong operations.

_And we're just sitting here while this is going on._

Rieger clenched his fist, resisting the urge to punch something on his console. He looked at the other two members of his crew. Captain Martinez watched the main monitor through narrow eyes. Sergeant Heath constantly shifted in his chair, a grim look on his face. He could tell they both wanted to get the hell out of here and do what they had taken an oath to do.

Defend their country.

The door to Danguard Ace's cockpit slid open. Rieger looked over as Hiroko entered.

"Well?" he asked.

"The new engine is installed. You are . . . you are ready to leave."

"About time." Rieger reached over to his comm panel and relayed the news to General Grimaldi.

"Good. The President wants you to engage the Mechakong in New York. Right now that's where we have the most people being threatened. We also have reports that Mothra is on its way to the East Coast. Given that development, I'm sending Earth's Cosmos with you. They'll be able to communicate with Mothra, and any other guardian monsters should they show up."

"Yes, Sir. We'll take off as soon as Earth's Cosmos are aboard."

"Roger that. Good luck, to all of you."

"Yes, Sir," the Danguard Ace crew all replied.

The screen with Grimaldi's image went black. Out the corner of his eye, he noticed Hiroko still standing next to him, a look of concern on her face.

"Martinez. Handle pre-flight checklist."

"You got it."

Rieger got up and led Hiroko out of the cockpit and into the small corridor. She stared at him, her lips tightening.

"We're gonna be all right," he reassured her.

She let out a slow breath. "I wish I had more time to test the new engine. The maser is still off-line, and who knows what other problems could occur. I'm still worried about Danguard Ace's right arm. It could lock up if you use it too much. What if . . ." She swallowed, her gaze locked with his.

"Hey." Rieger gently grasped her shoulders. "You and your people have done everything possible to get Danguard Ace ready. If something's not working one hundred percent, we'll just find a way around it."

Hiroko's face stiffened. She forced herself to nod. "Please be careful. I love you."

"I love you, too."

He kissed her. Moments after their lips parted, the Delivery Man appeared, carrying the open basket containing Earth's Cosmos. He looked inside at the two little women. "You ladies ready to go?"

"Yes, we are."

Rieger looked up at the Delivery Man. He said nothing, just maintained his stoic expression.

With a final, gentle squeeze of Hiroko's arm, Rieger smiled at her before heading back into the cockpit, followed by the Delivery Man. He directed the big Polynesian to one of the foldout seats on the right side, nicknamed JAFO seats for Just Another Friggin' Observer.

When Martinez finished the pre-flight checklist, Rieger alerted the op center to the fact.

"Copy that, Danguard Ace. All maintenance and technical personal are clear of the launch pad. T-minus one minute and counting to liftoff."

"Roger."

Rieger put on his helmet. "Okay, guys. Let's go kick some robot gorilla ass."

**XXXXX**

It proved difficult for General Karimi to not smile as he stood in _Cyrus the Great's_ Combat Information Center. So far he'd received nothing but good news from the opening phase of the invasion. Washington, Manhattan and Norfolk were in flames. Mechakong Three had crippled the US Atlantic Fleet. More than 30 American fighter jets had been shot down by the Mechakongs in New York and Washington. His carrier planes had bombed National Guard bases and state police barracks throughout Delaware, and Pasdaran troops were close to overwhelming the security forces at Dover Air Force Base.

He knew from past experience that things could still go wrong, that momentum could suddenly shift from one side to the other. But for right now, everything was going according to plan.

More reports came into the CIC. Mechakong One was attacking Baltimore. Heliborne troops had secured the Delaware Memorial Bridge that connected that state to New Jersey. Amphibious landings had begun at Rehoboth Beach.

Karimi allowed himself a hint of a smile.

"General Karimi."

He looked over at the console occupied by Commander Bagheri, the air control officer. "Yes, Commander?"

"I am in contact with Leopard Flight, flight of two F-14s and two MiG-29s over Maryland. They are reporting a strange object in the Chesapeake Bay."

Karimi walked over to the console and motioned for a headset. "Sovereign to Leopard Flight. Report."

**XXXXX**

"Sovereign, this Leopard Flight Lead," Lieutenant Dirbaz replied as he stared out the canopy of his F-14. "I have a visual on a single wake, traveling northwest, three kilometers from the Francis Scott Key Bridge."

"Is it a ship?"

"Unknown. All I can see is a wake."

The airwaves remained silent for a few seconds. "Leopard Flight Lead. Descend for a closer look. I want to know what this thing is."

"Affirmative, Sovereign. Leopard Flight Lead descending." Dirbaz switched to the flight net. "Leopard Eight. On my wing."

"Acknowledged, Leopard Lead."

Dirbaz glanced over his shoulder at his Radar Intercept Officer, Lieutenant Hosseini. "Hossi. Eyes sharp back there."

"Always."

Dirbaz banked the F-14 left. The gray, twin-tailed fighter's wings swept back as it dove for the deck. He leaned forward in his seat, his eyes locked on the head of the wake. He expected to see the knife-like shape of a boat, or perhaps sleek sail of a submarine.

He saw neither.

Dirbaz's F-14 shot past the wake. The flames and smoke around Baltimore, as well as Mechakong One, loomed before him.

"Sovereign, Leopard Flight Lead. I have no ID on the cause of the wake."

"Then look closer!" General Karimi snapped.

"Affirmative." Dirbaz scowled. _Look closer. What does he want me to do? Fly into the water?_

"Leopard Eight. We're coming back around for another inspection of the wake. Drop to 500 feet."

"Leopard Eight copies."

The two F-14s wheeled around. Buildings whipped below them in a brown blur. Suddenly the water appeared underneath them. He checked the long span of the Francis Scott Key Bridge, wanting to make sure he didn't accidentally clip it.

The wake was less than a kilometer from the bridge. Dirbaz still couldn't see what was causing –

A tower of water exploded from the river.

"Shit!" Dirbaz pulled back on the stick and banked left. Something tall and dark flashed by the corner of his eye.

"Allah have mercy," Leopard Eight blurted. A terrified scream came from Dirbaz's headphones.

"Leopard Eight!" Dirbaz twisted his head, fighting the g-forces, trying to spot the other F-14.

The breath caught in his throat when he saw what had caused the wake.

Godzilla stood in the middle of the river. The monster raised its right hand and brought it down. Dirbaz heard another scream from Leopard Eight.

A flash of flame and smoke erupted beneath Godzilla's palm.

"Leopard Eight. Leopard Eight, respond."

There was no reply.

Dirbaz leveled out, his gaze still on Godzilla. Sweat soaked his lean body as he took in the massive, reptilian form with its short snout and rows of silver, armored plates running down its back.

He could not remember any time in his life when he had been so scared.

_Pull yourself together. General Karimi must know about this._

"Sovereign! Sovereign! Cause of wake identified! It's Go-"

A stream of blue atomic flame blasted Dirbaz's F-14 to nothingness.

**XXXXX**

Adrenaline shot through Captain Zendegani as Mechakong Three's fist smashed through the rectangular superstructure of the _USS Fort McHenry. _He then raised the robot's massive foot and brought it down on the amphibious ship's stern.

The smile on his face grew as he stared at the monitor showing the docks of Naval Amphibious Base Little Creek. The wreckage of ten amphibious ships and coastal patrol ships stuck out of the water. He then turned Mechakong Three around and scanned to the south and west. Flames swept across the length of Norfolk. Satisfaction swelled within the Iranian air force pilot. The other Mechakongs could have Washington and New York. He felt Allah had blessed him when General Karimi assigned him to Norfolk. For years he had flown patrols over the Persian Gulf, watching the huge American aircraft carriers, cruisers and destroyers ply through the water with impunity. How dare they? How dare they treat The Gulf as though it belonged to them? Those waters belonged to Iran! But the damned infidels thought their big ships gave them the right to claim the Persian Gulf as their own.

Now many of those big ships had been reduced to charred and mangled wrecks.

_But there's still more to do._

Zendegani turned back to the base. Thousands of men and women fled through the streets and across the nearby golf course. Among them had to be members of the Navy SEALs. Four of their teams were based at Little Creek. What sort of blow would it be to America's vaunted elite forces if he could kill many of those Navy commandos?

Mechakong Three strode out of the water. Zendegani focused on a street jammed by a mass of bodies. He gripped his control stick tighter and moved the robot forward.

"Captain!" blurted Lieutenant Seraj, the sensor officer. "I've detected a large object in the water, approaching from the east."

"A ship?"

Seraj shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Put it on the monitor."

"Yes, Captain."

A separate screen appeared. The image showed huge columns of water being thrown up just beyond the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. Zendegani thought he saw a round, dark shape amidst the splashing.

"Magnify."

"Yes, Captain."

Seraj zoomed in. The dark shape began to take form as it swam toward shore and climbed out of the water.

"Captain? Is that . . ." Seraj stared at the screen, mouth agape.

"Yes, Lieutenant. It is."

King Kong turned toward his robotic twin, beat his chest and roared.

**XXXXX**

_So many Americans. All dead._

Captain Torabian took a deep, satisfied breath as he stared at the monitor in Mechakong Two's cockpit. Flames and smoke rose from all over Manhattan. He mentally urged the fires to grow, to purge this disgusting city of its sex fiends, whores, drunkards, drug users and worshippers of false religions. All the things that were an affront to Allah.

_This was a long time in coming._

He turned Mechakong Two toward the 3rd Avenue Bridge spanning the Harlem River. Vehicles sat bumper-to-bumper, unmoving. Many people abandoned their cars and fled on foot.

_No. No escape for you, you human filth._

Mechakong Two headed for the bridge, right arm raised.

"Aerial contact!" shouted Lieutenant Mahdavi, the sensor officer. "Large aerial contact approaching from the north. Five kilometers and closing."

Torabian halted his advance. "Show me."

A new screen appeared on the monitor. Mahdavi zoomed in the camera on the object. It didn't take long for it to take shape, and a very familiar shape.

"Mothra." Torabian sat back and grinned. Excitement crackled through him. Fighting a guardian monster would be almost as satisfying as killing Americans.

He looked down at Mahdavi and the weapons systems officer, Lieutenant Paknazar. He could sense their nervousness.

"There's no need to be afraid," Torabian told them. His two subordinates turned to him as he continued. "Allah's hand has guided us to this place, this moment. He wishes us to slay this beast that protects these infidels, these scum. And that is what we shall do."

He looked to Paknazar. "Ready one-hundred millimeter cannons. Set proximity fuses. Target, Mothra."

"Yes, Captain." Paknazar turned back to his console. Seconds later a gun pipper appeared on the monitor and settled over Mothra.

"Range to target, two thousand meters."

Torabian grinned and leaned forward. "Fire."

Thumps vibrated Mechakong Two as the shoulder-mounted cannons fired. Mothra banked left and right. Puffs of black exploded around the monster. If any shrapnel hit it, it didn't notice.

Torabian couldn't help but be impressed at how nimble such an enormous beast could be.

Not that it would save it in the end.

"Lightning dischargers. Fire."

Twin bolts shot out of Mechakong Two's eyes.

Mothra dodged them, and the next burst. It let out a high-pitched screech. An orange beam shot out its antennae.

A quake rocked Mechakong Two. Mahdavi screamed as the robot fell backward. Torabian felt every bone in his body shake when Mechakong Two struck the ground.

Lightning bolts flew from Mothra's wings. Flames and sparks jumped off the robot's thick armor. The cockpit blacked out for a moment.

"No, no, no!" Torabian hollered as the lights came back on. He grabbed the controls and began to right Mechakong Two.

"Look out!" Mahdavi hollered.

Torabian held his breath as Mothra's image filled the screen.

The giant butterfly slammed into Mechakong Two's chest, knocking it back down.

"Get up!" Torabian worked the controls. "Get up, damn you!"

He got Mechakong Two on all fours just as Mothra came around for another attack.

Torabian stabbed a few buttons, taking over fire control. He didn't bother to aim. He just activated the lightning dischargers and swiveled Mechakong Two's head from side-to-side.

One of the bolts struck Mothra's right wing. The monster wailed and rolled on its side.

Mechakong Two leapt to its feet and bounded over. It brought back its arm and swung with all its might. The blow sent Mothra tumbling through the air. It crashed on the other side of the Harlem River. Buildings crumbled as Mothra rolled over several city blocks. It came to rest on top of the nearby Major Deegan Expressway, several vehicles and people crushed beneath it.

Mechakong Two jumped across the river and landed beside Mothra. The monster tried to get up. Mechakong Two stomped on its mid-section, again and again. Mothra cried out in agony.

"Die, damn you! Die!" Torabian breathed heavily, consumed by sheer joy. He brought Mechakong Two's foot up and down, up and down. He then backed away and ordered Paknazar to launch two Noors. The missiles streaked out of the robot's chest. Two fireballs erupted from Mothra's abdomen.

Torabian's grin widened. He was about to kill a kaiju. Oh, the rewards he would receive. A promotion, medals, money, and his place in history. A thousand years from now the citizens and subjects of the reborn Persian Empire would say his name with reverence. Nouri Torabian, the first Iranian to kill a kaiju.

Mechakong Two lowered its head. Torabian took over fire control again. He aimed the lightning dischargers just below Mothra's head. He didn't want that damaged. He planned to display it somewhere, perhaps on top of the spire of Milad Tower in Tehran, as a symbol of –

"Second aerial contact from the northwest!" warned Mahdavi.

"Dammit, what now?" Torabian swung Mechakong Two around to face the threat.

He blinked when he saw it on the screen, not believing it. It shouldn't be here. Intelligence had reported it wouldn't be operational for several weeks. Yet there it was, diving toward him. The subdued blue, red and white color scheme, the rectangular legs, the huge fists and forearms, the barrel chest with its red chevron, the humanoid face and red samurai helmet.

It was most definitely Danguard Ace.

_How did the infidels –_

Something slammed into Mechakong Two.

**XXXXX**

"Yeah!" Rieger cheered to himself as Mechakong Two toppled to the ground. Four huge dents stood out on its torso where the rail gun rounds had struck.

He leveled out Danguard Ace and set it down between Mothra and the fallen robot gorilla.

"That's right, shitheads. Mothra's got back-up."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	6. Chapter 6

Captain Ebtehaj shivered as he watched Godzilla wade through the river. Being surrounded by tons of metal and a multitude of weaponry did nothing to quell his fear. He recalled the footage of Godzilla he'd seen over the years, all the monsters and aliens he had killed.

Now he stood right in front of him.

The two MiG-29s of Leopard Flight dove on Godzilla. Streaks of light flew from under their swept wings. Rockets. Some missed. Others exploded against Godzilla's green, scaly hide.

He faced the jets and roared. Blue fire gushed out of his mouth. The MiGs turned into fireballs.

Ebtehaj swallowed. His eyes swept over the cockpit of Mechakong One. Could his robot actually defeat the so-called King of Monsters?

_It must._

_I must. _For his nation, for his faith.

For his uncle.

"Daei!" he barked at the weapons systems officer. "Target Godzilla. Fire everything."

"Yes, Sir."

The main monitor showed Godzilla coming ashore, his feet crushing the trees, bushes and access roads of Thoms Cove. He turned to Mechakong One and roared.

The targeting box settled on Godzilla's chest. Lightning bolts flashed out of Mechakong One's eyes. Cannons thumped, gatling guns growled, missiles shrieked. Fireballs burst all over Godzilla. He twisted away and snarled.

"Keep firing!" Ebtehaj demanded. "Keep firing!"

Lightning, tracers and contrails slashed across the air. Flashes of orange and black enveloped Godzilla. Ebtehaj leaned forward in his seat, his breathing increased. Another shiver passed over his body. This one from anticipation. Godzilla was weakening, he could feel it.

The monster swung his head back toward Mechakong One. His huge white eyes narrowed.

Ebtehaj froze. He felt those eyes staring right through him, challenging him in a duel to the death.

Terror bore into his soul. For the first time since he was five, he pissed himself.

Godzilla took a step forward, then another. Lieutenant Daei kept up the barrage. Lightning bolts and shells pounded the monster.

Still it kept coming.

Sweat drenched Ebtehaj's face. His eyes remained locked on Godzilla.

The monster stopped. Relief swelled within Ebtehaj. Perhaps they still had a chance –

The armored plates running down Godzilla's back glowed blue.

"No!" Ebtehaj shoved the control stick left.

Mechakong One jumped to the side as Godzilla breathed atomic fire. The blast clipped the robot's right hip.

A quake rocked Mechakong One. The cockpit lights flickered on and off. High-pitched beeps assaulted Ebtehaj's ears.

He finally righted the Mechakong. All the weapons had stopped firing. Godzilla stomped toward him. The urge to run gripped Ebtehaj. He tried to fight through it. He was one of the best pilots in the Iranian air force, the nephew of General Karimi. What kind of man would he be if he fled before this defender of non-believers?

Ebtehaj pushed the control stick forward. Mechakong One's movement felt sluggish.

"What's happening?"

"The right leg is damaged," reported Lieutenant Towfigh. "Its degree of freedom is reduced by forty percent."

Ebtehaj tensed. Hesitantly, he glanced up at the monitor.

Godzilla was almost on top of them. The monster spun around, his tail whipping toward Mechakong One.

The robot grabbed it. Ebtehaj gritted his teeth as he manipulated the controls. Mechakong One whirled around like a discus thrower, still holding Godzilla's tail. On the second full rotation, it let go. Godzilla soared through the air and over the waters of Curtis Bay. He crashed into the industrial park, rolling over buildings and houses. A huge gray debris cloud rose around the monster.

Mechakong One limped forward. Towfigh switched the main monitor to thermal imaging. A glowing red and orange, reptilian silhouette appeared.

Lightning shot out of Mechakong One's eyes. The screen flared bright red and white as bolts exploded against Godzilla. Mechakong One slowly made its way through the water, approaching the shoreline of Curtis Bay.

Ebtehaj's eyes bulged as Godzilla pushed himself to his feet.

"Dammit!" He pounded a fist against his console. _What does it take to kill this thing?_

Ebtehaj had Towfigh open another screen on the monitor, this one showing a normal camera shot of Curtis Bay. Just to the right was the US Coast Guard Yard, with several cutters in various states of construction of repair. Mechakong One reached down and snatched one of them.

Godzilla stood upright and roared. Mechakong One swung its right arm. The Coast Guard cutter shattered against Godzilla's head.

He looked like he didn't even feel it.

Godzilla bared his teeth and slammed his forearm against Mechakong One's chest. The robot stumbled back. Godzilla lowered his shoulder and charged. He rammed into Mechakong One. It tumbled into the water.

Ebtehaj held the console in a death grip. He stared at the monitor, the image undulating as the camera peered through the water at Godzilla.

Panic seized him. The face of his uncle formed in his mind's eye. He remembered the pride in the man's eyes before he sent him off to attack the Americans.

Now Ebtehaj wondered, was he worthy of that pride?

**XXXXX**

The dark hair all over King Kong's body stood on end. A sense of danger flooded through him. He'd experienced these sensations for many days, but never this strong until now.

Kong roared. This had to be why the spirit of the Earth guided him here. The golden metal beast before him threatened the planet and all its inhabitants.

He had to stop it.

Kong let out another roar and rushed forward.

Lightning bolts shot out of Mechakong Three's eyes. They struck Kong square in the chest. Sparks and flames exploded from his torso. Kong's arms flew over his head as he fell on his back.

Pain sliced through his body, fueling his rage. He sat up and bellowed. Smoke rose from his chest.

Kong got to his feet. Another lightning bolt struck his shoulder. Kong stumbled back, then regained his balance. He dropped to all fours and sprinted at Mechakong Three. The robot's shoulder cannons fired. Columns of dirt and flame burst around him. With an enraged cry, Kong pushed off and shot through the air. He slammed into Mechakong Three. The robot toppled and crashed into a row of rectangular buildings near the docks.

Kong pushed himself to his feet and jumped on Mechakong Three. He roared and pounded the robot's chest. Mechakong Three jammed its right fist into Kong's thigh. The knuckle-mounted gatling guns fired. Hundreds of 30mm rounds hammered the gorilla's thick skin. Kong flinched and swatted away the robot's hand.

Mechakong Three's other hand rammed into Kong's side. The gorilla bellowed in pain. Mechakong Three hit him in the side again and again. It then grabbed Kong by the armpits and threw him off. Buildings crumbled as he rolled over them and into the waters of Little Creek Cove.

Mechakong Three got to his feet just as Kong stood upright. He looked down at wrecked fore section of the amphibious ship _USS Oak Hill, _lying on its side_._ Kong picked it up and raised it over his head. He reared back, ready to throw.

Lightning bolts sliced through the air. The wreckage of the _Oak Hill _exploded in Kong's hands. Flaming debris fell all around him.

Kong jumped out of the water. Mechakong Three fired a Noor missile from its chest launchers. Kong dodged it and tackled the robot. Both fell to the ground. Kong raised a fist and smashed it into Mechakong Three's face. He roared in triumph.

The robot's eyes glowed yellow. Lightning bolts streaked out from them and nailed Kong in the face. His eyes burned. The entire world had transformed into a bright white glare.

Kong cried out and rolled off Mechakong Three. He stomped and spun around, wailing. He pawed at his face, trying to make his sight return.

A missile from Mechakong Three exploded against Kong's stomach. A second missile hit his chest. The robot opened up with its 120mm cannons. Lightning bolts flashed through the air.

King Kong fell.

**XXXXX**

Rieger's hands flew over the controls. He had Danguard Ace spin and deliver a side kick to the Mechakong. It stumbled backwards. Danguard Ace followed up with a palm strike to the face, then a left hook to the side of the head. Martinez fired the eye-mounted particle beams. A shower of sparks and flame exploded from the Mechakong's shoulder.

All the while, Earth's Cosmos' melodic singing filled the cockpit. Not for the crew's benefit, but for Mothra's. Rieger glanced at the monitor. Whatever psychic energy boost the Cosmos were giving Mothra, it seemed to be working. The giant butterfly flapped her wings faster and faster, lifting herself off her back.

Rieger mentally urged the monster on. He had no problem making this a handicap match in his favor.

Martinez hit the Mechakong with more particle beam fire. The enemy robot reeled backwards, trampling a row of shops.

"Mothra is recovered," announced Earth's Cosmos. "She is ready to fight."

"Tell 'er to jump in any time," said Rieger.

Danguard Ace fired two rounds from its left rail gun as Mothra hovered next to it. An energy beam shot from her antennae. A plume of flame and smoke erupted from the Mechakong's right shoulder. Mothra flapped her wings rapidly. Hurricane force winds bracketed the area. Debris spiraled through the air. The Mechakong held up its hand. Not that that did a damn thing to stop the gale force winds pounding it. It continued to back up.

Lightning bolts shot from its eyes. They missed both Danguard Ace and Mothra. Martinez fired another burst from the robot's eye-mounted particle beams. They exploded against the Mechakong's waist. It fell down, kicking up a huge debris cloud.

Rieger nodded in satisfaction. _Who needs the maser? We got this._

Danguard Ace charged the fallen Mechakong. It started to get up just as the American robot reared its foot back and kicked it in the face.

"And the kick is good!" Rieger cheered.

"Look out!" Heath shouted.

The Mechakong swept out its arm and caught Danguard Ace's leg. It fell like a freshly cut tree, cratering the ground around it.

Rieger's hands flew over the control console, trying to get Danguard Ace up. He cursed himself for his overconfidence. _You oughta know better, dipshit._

The Mechakong rose to its feet. Danguard Ace raked the robot gorilla's shoulders and head with its 75mm gatling guns. Just as the Mechakong turned to face it, Mothra flew over it and fired lightning from her wings. Fireballs sprang up all over its metal hide. Danguard Ace raised both arms and fired its rail guns. Hyper-velocity rounds slammed against the Mechakong. Two missiles shot out of its chest. Danguard Ace's gatlings roared. Both missiles exploded in mid-air.

Mothra swung around and unleashed another lightning attack. More explosions surrounded the Mechakong. Danguard Ace fired its particle beams . . .

And missed as the Mechakong leaped into the air, at Mothra!

"Mothra, look out!" cried Earth's Cosmos.

The Mechakong snagged Mothra by the right wing. The giant butterfly shrieked as the robot came back down to earth. The Mechakong lifted Mothra and slammed her into the ground.

"Martinez! Get that thing off her!" ordered Rieger.

The weapons systems officer stared at the targeting monitor for several silent seconds. He then shook his head. "No joy. Mothra's in the way. I can't get a good shot."

The Mechakong reared back and flung Mothra.

Rieger's eyes widened. "Oh crap." He jammed the control stick to the right.

Mothra crashed into Danguard Ace.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	7. Chapter 7

Elation swelled within Captain Zendegani as he looked upon the prone form of King Kong. He drove Mechakong Three forward, nearly crushing the control stick. He recalled all those in The West who boasted of the great strength of King Kong, all the monsters he had defeated.

Now he would do what those beasts could not. He would slay the mighty Kong. The world would see the invincibility of the reborn Persian Empire.

Kong struggled to all fours, wisps of gray smoke rising from his body. Mechakong Three drove the point of its right elbow into the gorilla's back. Kong spasmed and fell spread-eagled on the ground. Mechakong Three grabbed the back of the gorilla's head, lifted it up, and smashed it into the concrete. The robot kicked Kong in the side. He rolled into the harbor, waves spilling over the docks.

Mechakong Three opened up with its cannons and gatling guns. Spouts of water shot up all over the harbor.

"Cease fire," Zendegani ordered his weapons systems officer, Lieutenant Amirabadi.

The guns fell silent. Zendegani eyed the monitor, looking for any sign of King Kong. All he saw was roiling water.

_Perhaps we –_

Kong burst to the surface and roared. He stared at Mechakong Three and beat his chest.

"So there's still some fight left in you," Zendegani muttered to himself.

King Kong charged out of the harbor. He raised both arms and swung them down at Mechakong Three. It dodged to the right, then punched Kong in the side. The gorilla spun and swiped at Mechakong Three. The blow caught the robot on the shoulder. Kong lunged forward and slammed into Mechakong Three. It stumbled backwards. Zendegani gritted his teeth and fought with the controls, keeping the robot on its feet.

Kong roared and charged. Zendegani's hand tensed on the control stick, ready to jump out of the way. At least second, he changed his mind.

Mechakong Three lowered his shoulder and rushed forward. Machine and monster collided. The world around Zendegani shook. Both combatants staggered back.

"Fire cannons!" he shouted to Amirabadi. "Fire cannons!"

The 120mm cannons on Mechakong Three's shoulders thumped away. Several shells missed. A few exploded against Kong's torso. He bellowed in pain and anger.

Mechakong Three sent an uppercut into Kong's chin. A karate chop to the shoulder. An elbow strike to the face. Zendegani didn't let up. His years of training as a fighter pilot had drilled into him one important tenant. Always be aggressive, always be on the attack.

Right hook. Punch to the gut. Chop to the neck. Kong sagged to his knees.

"Let's finish this." Zendegani glanced at Amirabadi. "Lightning strike."

"Yes, Sir."

Two bolts struck King Kong's chest. He flailed and fell backwards. Two more bolts hit Kong. The great ape's torso smoldered. His eyes flickered.

Mechakong Three bent down and grabbed King Kong. It lifted the ape over its head and reared back. Mechakong Three flung Kong through the air. He soared over the base, over the Atlantic, and slammed into the water half-a-mile from the beach.

The monitor in Mechakong Three's cockpit zoomed in on the ocean. Zendegani watched for any sign of King Kong. One minute passed. Then two. Three. Four. Five.

Nothing.

He smiled and contacted the carrier _Cyrus the Great. _"Mechakong Three to Sovereign. King Kong has been neutralized."

**XXXXX**

_Think. Think, dammit!_

Captain Ebtehaj's chest tightened as Godzilla roared and waded into Curtis Bay. He racked his brains, trying to come up with a way to regain the advantage.

Only one thing came to mind.

Ebtehaj activated the jet pack. Mechakong One blasted out of the water and took to the sky.

The tension gripping his muscles unraveled. He now had some distance between him and Godzilla. Perhaps he should attack from the air, especially given the damage to Mechakong One's right leg.

That's when he noticed rows of round, gray objects on the ground. An idea took shape.

Ebtehaj set Mechakong Three down next to the oil tanks. Godzilla swung around to face the robot.

"Daei. Lightning strike, oil tanks."

The WSO gave him a perplexed look. "Sir?"

"Do it!"

Daei nodded and turned back to his console. Moments later lightning bolts raked the oil tanks. Massive fireballs rose in front of Mechakong One. Clouds of thick, ink black smoke surrounded it.

Now Godzilla couldn't see Mechakong One.

"Switch to thermal imager," Ebtehaj ordered.

The monitor turned into a mass of rainbow-like colors. A shimmering red and orange reptilian shape stood out in the center.

"Lock all weapons on Godzilla and fire!"

Shells, missiles and lightning bolts slashed through the smoke and flames. Explosions sprouted all over Godzilla's body. He roared and unleashed his atomic breath. The blast missed Mechakong One by a good fifty meters. Godzilla let out another gusher of blue fire. Again the monster missed, unable to see through the thick smoke.

"Cease fire. Everyone hold on." Ebtehaj activated the robot's jet pack. Mechakong One shot through the smoke.

"Lightning strike!"

Two bolts struck Godzilla in the chest. He stumbled back. Mechakong One crashed into the monster. Godzilla screeched and tumbled into the water.

"Yes!" Ebtehaj cheered as he swung Mechakong One around and landed in the water.

Godzilla slowly stood up. Mechakong One used the jet pack to bound over to him. It landed next to Godzilla and sent a karate chop into his neck. The monster turned and swiped at Mechakong One. It blocked the punch and sent a fist at Godzilla's throat.

Godzilla clamped his jaws down on Mechakong One's wrist. Ebtehaj stabbed at the controls, trying to shake the robot's hand free. Godzilla held on, biting down harder.

"Godzilla's penetrating the armor around the right wrist," Towfigh reported. "Several actuators damaged."

Ebtehaj bared his teeth, pounding the controls, trying to break free. Godzilla would not let go. Mechakong One balled its left fist and punched him between the eyes. Godzilla still had the right wrist in his jaws. Mechakong hit him again and again, to no avail.

"Lightning strike to the head!" ordered Ebtehaj.

The bolts hit Godzilla point blank in the face. He bellowed and stumbled back, smoke billowing from his snout.

Ebtehaj tried to rotate Mechakong One's right wrist. It wouldn't move.

"Malfunction, right wrist," said Towfigh. "Gatling guns offline."

Anger and dread took hold of Ebtehaj. First Mechakong One's leg, now the wrist. How much more punishment could it take from Godzilla?

But what could he do? Retreat? The nephew of the commander of the Pasdaran run away?

_Never._

Ebtehaj urged Mechakong One forward. A lightning strike exploded against Godzilla's left shoulder. He roared and looked up at the approaching robot.

Every muscle in Ebtehaj's body tightened. He willed Mechakong One's damaged right leg to move faster. The 120mm cannons fired. Shells burst against Godzilla. He roared and reared back. His armored plates glowed blue.

_Shit._ Ebtehaj jerked Mechakong One to the left. Its right leg practically dragged along the ground.

_Move! Move!_

Godzilla's atomic breath struck Mechakong One's right side. A quake jolted the robot. The cockpit lights flickered on and off. Ebtehaj was thrown around in his chair, his straps preventing him from flying around the cockpit.

He blinked a few times and shook his head. That's when he noticed high-pitched beeps filling the cockpit.

"Battery Number One and solar collector unit offline!" hollered Towfigh. "Turbofan One non-responsive! Right leg non-responsive!"

Ebtehaj clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to scream. He couldn't afford to fall apart now.

He looked at the monitor and gasped. The entire screen was black.

"Open viewing window!" he yelled.

The top half of the cockpit slid back, revealing a large, thick window, now their only means of seeing outside with the monitor down. Ebtehaj pressed back into his seat, eyes bulging.

Godzilla stood right in front of him.

The monster drew his arm back and brought it down. Mechakong One blocked the blow just in time. Ebtehaj quickly tapped a few buttons on his console. Mechakong One head-butted Godzilla. The cockpit shook as Godzilla staggered to the side. He recovered in mere moments and slashed Mechakong One. His claws dug into the thick armor. Jagged tears formed across the robot's chest. Lightning bolts exploded against Godzilla at point blank range. He roared and toppled onto his back.

"Sovereign to Mechakong One," General Karimi's voice came through Ebtehaj's headphones.

"Mechakong One. I read you."

"We are showing multiple system failures in your robot. Disengage and head for Dover Air Force Base."

Shock paralyzed him. That couldn't be right. So Mechakong One was damaged. He had just knocked Godzilla to the ground. He could still win.

"Sovereign, I have Godzilla down. I can finish him."

"Disengage! That's an order."

Ebtehaj's lips tightened. Anger flashed through him, anger at his uncle, and anger at himself for not being able to kill this damn fire-breathing lizard.

He activated the jet pack. Only one turbofan worked. It made keeping Mechakong One level impossible. The giant robot tilted to the left. They made it up to five hundred feet before Mechakong One began dropping back to the ground.

"Towfigh. More power to the jet pack."

The sensor officer/engineer increased the rpms of the lone turbofan. Ebtehaj's arm shook as he pulled on the control stick, fighting to gain altitude.

460 feet . . . 440 . . . 420 . . .

430 . . . 450 . . . 500 . . . 550.

Ebtehaj exhaled loudly as Mechakong One kept gaining more altitude. He leveled out at 2,000 feet. A single functioning turbofan would put strain on the jet pack, but it should last long enough to get them to Dover, some 50 miles away.

The anger toward his uncle returned. How could he do this to him? Did he not know how much harder he had to work to prove he belonged in the air force because of his skills as a pilot, not because of his blood line? Now what would everyone say? That he got his wings because of a powerful relative? That General Karimi was more like an overprotective mother than an uncle, one who pulled him out of a fight if it got too dangerous?

Ebtehaj wished his uncle had let him stay at Curtis Bay to fight Godzilla. Even if the monster had destroyed Mechakong One, death was preferable to having his comrades view him as the precious, privileged pet of General Karimi.

**XXXX**

Clenching Mothra's left wing, the Mechakong raised the giant butterfly over its head and brought her down on Danguard Ace's chest. Earth's Cosmos cried out, as though they felt Mothra's pain.

Danguard Ace put its hands out to its side and tried to push up. Again the Mechakong used Mothra to bash the American robot.

Rieger tensed as a quake swept through the cockpit. No way was the Mechakong going to let him get to his feet.

Unless . . .

The Mechakong raised Mothra again.

"I got weps!" Rieger shouted. His hands flew across the control panel. Danguard Ace raised his right arm. Out popped the rail gun.

The Mechakong started to bring down Mothra for another strike.

Rieger barely had time to aim. He fired the rail gun. Three rounds struck the Mechakong's leg. Dents and gashes appeared around the knee and calf. The Mechakong stumbled, releasing Mothra. The butterfly dropped to the ground next to Danguard Ace.

Rieger checked the monitor and grimaced. Mothra's left wing was mangled. She wailed as she tried and failed to lift off the ground. Earth's Cosmos sang louder, more urgently, than before. He hoped whatever strength and courage their melody possessed would be enough to get Mothra back in the fight.

Danguard Ace rose to its feet. The Mechakong turned toward it. Danguard Ace sent a thrust kick into the other robot's gut. A left hook banged off the Mechakong's head. Right jab to the gut. Another right jab. Anoth-

Alarms wailed. A schematic of Danguard Ace appeared in Rieger's helmet-mounted display. A red line surrounded the robot's right arm.

MALFUNCTION. The word flashed over and over again.

"Right arm actuators are locked up!" shouted Heath. He stabbed at the buttons on his console, trying to reset the circuits. He grimaced and shook his head. "Circuits are non-responsive!"

"Look out!" Martinez yelled.

Rieger glanced at the monitor. The Mechakong threw a punch. On instinct, he went for the controls for Danguard Ace's right arm to block it, then went for the left arm controls.

The split second delay cost Rieger.

The blow nailed Danguard Ace in the side of the head. A thunderous bang of metal-on-metal ripped through the cockpit. Rieger pitched forward, the straps of his chair digging into him. The Delivery Man held Earth's Cosmos' basket in a death grip. The little fairies inside screamed.

Rieger blinked and shook his head. A ringing filled his ears. He tried to ignore it and turn Danguard Ace toward the Mechakong.

Lightning bolts streaked from the Iranian robot's eyes. They exploded against Danguard Ace's chest. The cockpit lights blinked on and off. Static appeared on the monitor. Seconds later the world outside reappeared.

The Mechakong rammed a fist into Danguard Ace's gut. It doubled-over. The Iranian robot raised both fists and slammed them down on Danguard Ace's back. It collapsed on its stomach.

Teeth clenched, Rieger struggled to get the robot back on its feet. The task proved difficult with the right arm unresponsive.

The Mechakong grabbed Danguard Ace, lifted it over its head and threw it. Buildings and streets whipped past Danguard Ace. Rieger activated the engines. He couldn't have the robot crashing down on The Bronx.

Lightning bolts hit Danguard Ace in the back. The engines flamed out.

The robot dropped like a stone.

"Shit!" Rieger tried to restart the engines.

Nothing.

He checked the monitor. A beige, horseshoe-shaped structure grew larger by the second. As a sports fan, he recognized it instantly.

New Yankee Stadium.

"Brace for impact!"

Danguard Ace crashed down on the stadium's left field side. The concourses, along with dozens of rows of seats, caved in. The stone facade crumbled. The robot's face formed a massive crater in the infield.

Rieger took a couple of deep breaths and looked around the cockpit. "Everyone okay?"

"Still breathing," Martinez waved a hand at him.

"Um, yeah," Heath responded. "I think so."

A high-pitched scream came from Earth's Cosmos, loud enough to make Danguard Ace's crew wince. Rieger turned to the Delivery Man, who clutched the basket tight against his chest.

"Mothra!" Earth's Cosmos cried out. "Mothra, no!"

Dread coiled around Rieger's insides. He brought Danguard Ace to its feet and turned around. The monitor showed the Mechakong a couple of miles away, bent over.

"Heath, magnify the image."

"Roger. Magnifying image."

The scene grew. Earth's Cosmos continued to scream.

Rieger soon discovered why.

The Mechakong had one hand on Mothra's head, and the other on her back.

_Oh my God. _"Martinez! Particle beams."

"Particle beams are offline."

"Dammit!" Rieger stabbed the engine start button.

Nothing.

"Come on. Come on." He hit the button again. The engines sputtered. He hit it again. A steady rumble came from the engines.

"All right." He gripped the control stick. All they needed was a short jump to get over there and –

Earth's Cosmos shrieked. Pain stabbed Rieger's ears and drove into his brain. His face twisted. Through the narrow slits of his eyes he watched the Mechakong rip off Mothra's head.

The screaming stopped. The Delivery Man stared into the basket. A look of distress formed on his face.

The Mechakong held up Mothra's head, then blasted off into the sky.

Rieger unbuckled himself and bounded over to the Delivery Man. "Are they okay?"

The big Polynesian didn't answer. Rieger looked into the basket. The twin fairies laid on their backs. For a moment, he feared they were dead. Then they stirred and moaned.

"Major," Martinez called to him. "General Grimaldi's on the line."

Rieger headed back to his seat. "Lair, do you copy?"

"I read you, Major," replied Grimaldi. "We saw what happened to Mothra. How are Earth's Cosmos doing?"

"They collapsed when Mothra died, but they're still alive. It looks like they somehow felt Mothra's pain."

"Understood. Our readouts back here show significant damage to Danguard Ace. I'm ordering you to return to base at once."

"Roger that. Danguard Ace, RTB."

The engines roared to life, far too late to help Mothra. Rieger averted his gaze from the butterfly's headless body as Danguard Ace took to the sky and headed west.

No one spoke as the burning metropolis gave way to smaller cities and towns, then forests and mountains. A heavy air hung over the cockpit.

The air of defeat.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	8. Chapter 8

General Karimi's first sight of Washington DC was an evil, orange aura hovering over the city. As his Shahed 278 helicopter drew closer to the American capital, he saw the cause for the display. Dozens of fires burned out of control. With night having fallen, he figured the glow of the fires could be seen for over a hundred miles in all directions.

The thought made him smile. The Americans would see it as further proof of the supremacy of the reborn Persian Empire.

The helicopter soared over Washington, or rather, what was left of it. Fire consumed entire sections of the city. Monuments and government buildings were reduced to rubble.

All except one, and Karimi's entire body tingled with excitement as he neared it.

The helicopter descended toward the South Lawn of the White House. A ground crewman with two neon orange sticks guided it to a space between two of the many other choppers already parked on the lawn.

Karimi stepped out of the Shahed 278, an Iranian copy of the American Bell Ranger. He hunched over, the downdraft from the whirling blades battering his body. When he could feel it no more, he straightened up.

"Welcome to the White House, General." A tall, lean mustachioed man wearing olive, black and gray-patterned fatigues saluted him.

"Thank you, Colonel." Karimi returned the salute to Colonel Javad Honarmand, commander of the Pasdaran battalion guarding the White House. "Status of your security."

Honarmand spoke as the two men walked toward the columned edifice of the South Portico entrance, followed by two of Karimi's bodyguards. "The White House had been completely evacuated before we arrived. My men met no resistance." He swept a hand from the East Wing to the West Wing. "I have snipers, machine gunners and man-portable anti-air missiles in position along the rooftops, as well as all around the grounds. More are deployed in a one-mile radius around the White House, with six-man recon teams patrolling out to a two-mile radius."

"What about armored units?"

"They have not arrived yet. There is too much debris in the streets from Mechakong One's attack. It is making travel difficult for our tanks and APCs."

"Assign some men to go through the city and round up civilians to clear the streets," said Karimi. "If any refuse, kill them."

"Yes, Sir."

Karimi looked up at the roof of the South Portico. In place of the damned star and stripes flew the green, white and red flag of the Islamic Republic of Iran. Sheer joy flooded him as he watched it flutter in the breeze over the greatest symbol of American power.

"What of the White House facilities?" he asked as they went up the marble stairs.

"The Communications Room, Press Room and Situation Room are all at our disposal. We can communicate with anyone, anywhere in the world. There are a few computer files and encrypted communications that we are unable to access. Our cryptographers are attempting to break through their security."

Karimi nodded. "As long as I can make my broadcast to the American people."

"Everything is in place for that, General."

They entered the White House. Karimi noticed how bare the hallway looked. There were no paintings, marble busts or other decorative objects to be seen. They had been loaded into the other helicopters on the South Lawn for transport to the fleet, and ultimately back to Iran. He had a list of select heads of state, crimelords and corporate executives who would pay a fortune for any item stolen from the White House. More money for the Pasdaran's coffers.

More money for his bank account.

"Your command staff is waiting for you in the Oval Office," Honarmand informed him.

"Excellent."

Karimi picked up his pace, anxious to enter the literal seat of American power. He ignored Pasdaran soldiers carrying paintings and other art work as they passed by, visions of the Oval Office forming in his head. He drew a deep, satisfied breath as he pictured himself sitting in the same high back leather chair used by President Calhoun.

Two Pasdaran soldiers standing by the Oval Office door snapped to attention. Karimi saluted them and dismissed Colonel Honarmand. One of the bodyguards opened the door. Karimi stepped inside.

He took it all in. The blue carpet bearing an eagle clutching arrows and an olive branch, the Seal of the President. The plush gold sofas and cushioned chairs. The three tall windows with elegant drapes behind the famed Resolute Desk.

_It's all mine now._

Four men rose from the sofas, the chiefs of the ground forces, air operations, intelligence and special operations.

"Be seated." Karimi strode past his generals and walked around the ornate, wooden desk. He stared at the chair for a few moments before settling into it. A grin spread across his face. He could almost feel the power of this chair surging through him. Karimi wondered if this was how the great kings like Cyrus the Great and Cambyses II felt when they had conquered new lands.

He swiveled the chair around to face his command staff. His gaze settled on a stocky man with a full beard.

"Lohrasbi. What is the status of our occupation forces?"

"All key areas in the state of Delaware have been secured," reported the general in charge of ground forces. "Much of the resistance we faced came from the local police forces. They were quickly overwhelmed. We are, however, dealing with isolated attacks carried out by the civilian population."

Karimi nodded. He had expected this. Half the damn people in this country owned firearms.

That would change under his rule.

"Inform all occupation forces. Any civilian who attacks any of our personnel shall be executed immediately, along with the offender's family and everyone who lives on their block."

"Yes, General," replied Lohrasbi.

"What of the areas outside Delaware?"

"Our forces have secured Kennedy Airport in New York. Washington and its surrounding areas are also under our control. More troops, armored units, artillery and anti-aircraft batteries are coming ashore each hour."

"Good." Karimi turned to a lean man with deeply tanned skin and dark eyes. "Panjali. Status of the Mechakongs."

The head of air operations answered, "Mechakong Three only suffered superficial damage in its fight with King Kong. It is fully operational. The other two Mechakongs are at Dover Air Force Base undergoing repairs. We have to replace Mechakong Two's left leg and some of its power coils, as well as repair the missile firing system. It should be operational by early tomorrow morning. Mechakong One suffered the worst damage. Its right arm, right leg and jet pack must all be replaced. Luckily switching out the limbs and the jet pack can be easily done. But repairs are needed to many of the cockpit systems and the missile firing system. We can have it back in the field in a day or two, but it will not be at one hundred percent efficiency."

"Even a Mechakong at forty percent is better than any conventional weapon the Americans have," said Karimi. "Just do the essential repairs and have it ready to fight as soon as possible."

"Yes, General."

"Nakisa." Karimi looked to his portly intelligence chief. "Anything new on Danguard Ace and the Guardian Monsters?"

"My analysts have gone over all the footage we have on Danguard Ace's battle with Mechakong Two in New York. As far as we can determine, the robot's right arm is severely damaged. It also appeared to have some sort of malfunction to its engines. And considering it did not use its maser, we have to assume it still has not been repaired."

"We know Mothra is dead. What of Godzilla and King Kong."

"There has been no sign of King Kong since he was defeated by Mechakong Three, though I am hesitant to declare him dead. We all know how difficult it is to kill these monsters. Godzilla returned to the ocean following his battle with Mechakong One. While he did take numerous hits from Mechakong One, given his regenerative abilities, whatever injuries Godzilla may have suffered will be healed very soon, if they have not been already."

Karimi's jaw stiffened. Anger and disappointment grew inside him, directed at his nephew. How could he have failed like this? The boy had proved himself an exceptional pilot. He was loyal to the country, devout in his faith. Yet he allowed Godzilla to live, while his own robot had been seriously damaged, threatening the success of this mission.

_He had better redeem himself on his next mission._

Karimi's attention shifted to a muscular man with a jagged scar running down his left cheek and neck. "Garousi. Status of our operation in the west."

"Our forces are en route as we speak," stated the general in charge of special operations. "The operation will commence at the designated time."

"Excellent." He looked back at Nakisa. "What has been the international reaction to our occupation?"

"We have received verbal support from Venezuela, North Korea, Cuba, Syria, and many of our revolutionary brothers around the world. The United Nations General Assembly is still debating how to respond to our operation. Our ambassador does not believe an official statement will come any time soon, if ever."

Karimi shrugged. He could care less what the UN did. That organization ceased being relevant years ago.

"Canada and Mexico have put their armed forces on high alert," Nakisa reported.

Again, the news caused little concern for Karimi. Canada might commit troops to aid the US in this war, but so what? The Canadian Forces were small compared to both the American and Iranian militaries. Mexico had a much larger military, but given the years of tension over border and immigration issues, he couldn't see that country fighting alongside the US.

"Israel has also put its armed forces on alert," said Nakisa. "We have reports of nuclear bombs being loaded onto their fighters and Jericho missiles being brought up to launch status."

This did concern him. Israel had the capability to wipe out every major city and military base in Iran.

_But the Mechakongs give me the capability to wipe out all of Israel. _That would eventually happen, possibly sooner rather than later. He felt the Israelis wouldn't use nuclear weapons unless directly attacked. But when dealing with a people who constantly felt they had their backs to the wall, one could never be sure how they might act.

"Most of the European nations have also raised their military alert levels," Nakisa continued. "Turkey is asking for NATO reinforcements to bolster their armed forces. Iraq and Afghanistan are deploying troops to our borders."

Karimi nodded. There were more than enough troops, tanks, artillery and aircraft back home to deal with anything the Iraqis or the Afghans might do.

"Japan, South Korea, India, Australia and The Philippines are also all on alert."

"They will do nothing unless provoked. Right now they are not threats to us."

"But there is one threat we must address." Nakisa shifted his large frame on the sofa. "Our intelligence shows the American Marines at Camp Lejeune and the Eighty-Second Airborne Division at Fort Bragg are preparing to deploy. I believe it is safe to say they plan to launch a counter-attack against our forces."

Karimi gave a snorting laugh. "Well we can't allow that, can we?"

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	9. Chapter 9

Lieutenant General Jeff Keane had fought in conflicts all over the world during his time with the Marine Corps. Panama. Kuwait. Somalia. Kosovo. Afghanistan. Iraq.

Never did he imagine he'd have to fight a war on his own soil.

The tall, beefy commander of the II Marine Expeditionary Force strode through the halls of the headquarters building. Marines saluted as they passed. Keane returned their salutes, doing his best to maintain a stoic expression, hiding the worry that twisted his insides.

Three American cities lay in ruin. Iranian soldiers occupied parts of Washington, Delaware and New York. Danguard Ace and the Guardian Monsters – save for Godzilla – had been defeated by the Mechakongs. The American public was in a full-blown panic. They wanted the military to kick the Iranians' asses all the way back to Tehran, and they wanted it done now.

So did Congress, at least the members that made it out of DC before the one Mechakong blew it to hell.

More importantly, so did The President.

Keane's stomach clenched as he neared the door to the conference room. The II MEF had been tasked with retaking Washington. Normally an assault on a major city like DC would take weeks, even months, of planning and preparation. But the public and the politicians didn't want to wait, not with millions of American citizens under Iranian subjugation and Iranians sitting in the White House.

_We're not ready for this. _One of his expeditionary units, the 26th, was deployed overseas, along with two F/A-18 squadrons and an F-35 squadron. Over a dozen aircraft were down for maintenance. About half of the 24th MEU, which recently returned from a six-month deployment, were on leave and scattered across the country. He had made his concerns known to the Joint Chiefs, but they had their marching orders.

Take back Washington, and take it back now.

Keane didn't pause as he opened the door and entered the conference room. The colonels and generals in charge of the II MEF's subordinate units rose to attention.

"As you were."

The men took their seats as Keane stood at the head of the table. A female sergeant in the corner with a laptop tapped a few buttons. A digital map of Washington DC appeared on the screen behind Keane.

"The President's given us the task of taking back our capital."

The other senior officers said nothing as Keane turned to the screen, which had several red markings denoting Iranian units.

"The intel we've gathered on the Iranians in DC comes from a combination of satellites, reconnaissance drones and assets we've managed to make contact with inside the city. By our estimates, the enemy has at least two infantry brigades in DC, with at least two companies stationed at the White House. Additional troops are landing along the Chesapeake Bay and traveling across Maryland to DC. It's possible we could be facing an entire infantry division by the time we get there."

"What about Iranian armor?" asked the commander of the 2nd Marine Division.

"They have at least one armored brigade ashore. Luckily all the rubble from the Mechakong's attack is making it hard for them to get around. Another thing in our favor is that they haven't had a chance to mass artillery batteries or establish a significant air defense network. But the Iranians do have several vessels in the Potomac. Most are small patrol boats, but we've also spotted an old Saam-class frigate that can provide fire support for the ground troops. There are also two container ships anchored at Fort McNair. The Iranians are using them as troop transports, but they've been fitted with numerous guns and missile launchers that can threaten our ground forces. Pete, we're going to need your planes to take 'em out."

"Will do," replied Major General Pete Stearns, CO of the 2nd Marine Air Wing.

"You'll also have to task some planes for air interdiction," said Keane. "The Iranians have two modified Kiev-class carriers operating off the coast, each one with about 70 aircraft. They're also using heavy-lift choppers to bring more jets into the country. At last count, the Iranians had about twenty fixed-wing aircraft at Andrews Air Force Base, a mixed bag of MiG-29s, F-5s and F-6s. They also have at least eight attack helicopters there, six Hinds and two Hueys."

Stearns gave a barely perceptible nod. "If they put any of them up, we'll put 'em down . . . hard."

"I have no doubt about that." Keane bit down on his lip for a moment. "Gentlemen. I don't have to tell you what kind of disadvantage we're at here. We have several units deployed overseas, we don't have enough air assets to fly the entire force to Washington all at once, and our armored units will need between twelve to twenty-four hours to travel from here to DC. And to make matters worse, this will be a MOUT." He used the acronym for Military Operations in Urban Terrain. "I don't have to tell you how difficult that is."

The senior officers all wore grim expressions. Many of them had experienced the hell of urban combat in Iraq.

"Any other time, we wouldn't launch an assault like this for several weeks. But given what we're facing, we have to do this now. The American people we took an oath to defend will not stand for a foreign army occupying one inch of our soil, and neither will the United States Marine Corps."

The senior officers nodded, some adding a, "Yes, Sir," or "Damn right."

"This is what we're going to do." Keane pointed to different parts of the map as he laid out his plan. It called for a heliborne landing and a three-pronged advance into DC. A combined unit of Force Recon and Special Operations Marines, supported by Super Cobra gunships, would retake the White House.

When he finished the briefing, Keane stared at the map in silence. He felt this was a good plan, the best he and his staff could come up with on such short notice. But he knew, as did everyone in the armed forces, that no plan survived first contact with the enemy.

God help them when things started going wrong in Washington.

He turned back to the senior officers. "Any questions?"

The CO of the 24th MEU raised his hands. "What do we do if one of those Mechakongs show up?"

Keane fought to keep any trace of worry off his face. "We take cover. Do not engage. I know that goes against all our training, but let's be realistic. If Danguard Ace or Mothra couldn't take down one of those robots, our M4s and TOW missiles won't do any good against them either. The best thing we can do is stay out of sight until it passes by."

The colonels and generals at the table nodded, but Keane could see the doubt in their eyes. He had said it in hopes of boosting their confidence. But these men were experienced enough to know that if something like the Mechakong showed up in Washington, they were effed with a capital "F".

"Anyone other questions?"

Keane looked around the table. No one else spoke.

"All right. Head back to your commands and assign them their responsibilities. We launch at twenty-three hundred hours. Semper Fi."

"Semper Fi," the senior officers replied.

They exited the briefing room. General Keane headed outside to a waiting Humvee. The corporal at the wheel drove him across the river to Marine Corps Air Station New River. MV-22 Ospreys, CH-53 Super Stallions, Hueys and Super Cobras lined the tarmac. Everywhere he looked, groups of Marines stood or squatted in tight circles, getting instructions from their COs. Keane met with the members of his headquarters group to go over the latest intelligence on the disposition of Iranian forces in Washington and make necessary changes to the plan.

Fifteen minutes before takeoff, the Marines began boarding their helicopters and tilt-rotors. Groundcrew attached cables from armed Humvees and M777 howitzers to Ospreys. Keane groaned. There were too few of them to provide effective fire support for the whole Force, but until they could get the rest of their armor to DC, it was better than nothing.

He went around to some of the Marines, shaking their hands, wishing them luck, offering a few words of encouragement. He spotted fear in the eyes of every man. But mixed with that fear was determination, and anger. Anger at the Iranians for invading their country and slaughtering thousands of their fellow citizens

They would make the bastards pay, or die trying.

Keane strode to his V-22. The thumping of dozens of rotors merged into one sustained roar. The multitude of downdrafts kicked up dust and other tiny debris, some of which pelted his face or got in his eye. He walked up the Osprey's rear ramp and headed toward the cockpit. Keane stood beside the lean black man in the pilot's seat.

"You ready, Colonel?"

Colonel Del Jeffries, CO of Marine Medium Tiltrotor Squadron 263, aka "The Thunder Chickens," turned to Keane. "I've been ready to kick some Islamofacist ass all day. I say we get this show on the road, Sir."

Keane smiled and checked his watch. Three minutes to go before they launched.

Circles of orange in the night sky grabbed his attention. F/A-18 and F-35 jet fighters. Their presence made him feel somewhat better. Not only would they provide much needed support for the ground pounders, but they would be more than a match for any jet the Iranians put in the air.

_We can do this._

_We have to do this._

When his watch hit 2300, Keane looked to Colonel Jeffries. "Contact all squadrons. Lift off and proceed to Washington."

"Yes, Sir."

In less than a minute, dozens of helicopters and tilt-rotors took to the sky. Keane clenched the back of the pilot's seat. This was it. Not long now before his Marines would be on the ground slugging it out street by street, house by house, with the Iranians. How many would he lose? Again he cursed the rush for this operation. With more time he could –

"Thunderbolt Four! Missile launch!" The voice of an F/A-18 pilot burst through his headset. "Missile launch, just off shore!"

Keane snapped his head to the left. A chill went through his body as he saw the single contrail rise up from the Atlantic. Could that be a nuke?

"Thunderbolt Six to Thunderbolt Flight. Intercept bogey. Repeat, intercept bogey."

Keane watched several of the F/A-18 Hornets bank to the right, heading toward the ocean.

"Thunderbolt Three. I've got a lock. My God, this thing is huge."

"Quit jawing and take the damn thing out."

"Roger, Six."

The small contrail of a missile streaked across the sky toward the bogey. More missiles soon flew from the wings of other Hornets. Keane tensed, watching them draw nearer to the bogey. He held his breath when the contrails connected. Fireballs blossomed around the bogey.

It kept coming.

_Oh my God. Is that –_

Lightning bolts cut across the darkness. F/A-18s turned into miniature suns.

"It's a Mechakong!" Keane turned to Jeffries. "Tell all aircraft to dive for the deck. Try to get lost in the ground clutter."

"Yes, Sir." Jeffries relayed the order while he put the Osprey into a steep descent.

The Mechakong barreled through the squadron. Helicopters and tilt-rotors exploded against its thick hide. Flashes of yellow flew from the insectoid-looking Super Cobras as they fired their gatling guns and rocket pods. The door gunners in the Super Stallions and Hueys opened up with their .50 caliber and M240 machine guns.

The rounds just bounced off the Mechakong.

The robot swung around and lashed out with its right arm. Two Ospreys and a Super Stallion shattered like a vase dropped on the floor. It then brought up its left fist. Three tongues of flame erupted from the knuckles. Bright yellow tracers sliced through the air. A Super Cobra near Keane's Osprey exploded.

"Get us out of here bef-"

Hammer blows rocked the Osprey. A loud, ripping sound followed. Keane felt a blast of wind a split second before a barrage of 30mm rounds tore him apart.

**XXXXX**

_Well ain't this a kick in the nuts, _thought Sergeant Dwayne Betts as he followed the rest of his company to the waiting C-17 transport. When he learned that the 82nd Airborne had been tasked with liberating Delaware from the damn Iranians, he assumed he would be jumping into Dover Air Force Base. That was, after all, the most important target in that state.

He actually froze in shock when his CO told him that all of 2nd Battalion, 325th Airborne Infantry Regiment, would be securing the Delaware Memorial Bridge in New Castle. Their Drop Zone, or DZ, was ten mile north, in the parks around Wilmington.

_Wilmington. _Betts scowled as he waddled along the tarmac, weighed down by almost 130 pounds of gear, including the 50-pound T-10 parachute and harness. He'd grown up in that city, and spent every waking moment dreaming of getting the hell out of there.

Betts' home had been a small, dreary apartment in one of the rougher neighborhoods of Southern Wilmington. He barely knew his father, and his mother cared more about getting high than she did about him. Last he heard she was in jail on drug charges, again. He spent a fair amount of time with foster parents. Some had been better than others, but none made any sort of impact on his life.

He thanked God he had Pastor Steve, who ran the local church in his neighborhood. When things got real bad, he'd let him crash at the church. Pastor Steve kept at him to study and got him involved in school sports, in order to get him away from the influence of the gangs. And it worked, that and having three of his friends gunned down in the streets. No way did he plan on getting stuffed in the ground at age 17 because of something as stupid as turf or colors.

At first, Betts thought football would be his way out of Wilmington. He'd done pretty well his sophomore year at both running back and linebacker, then exploded his junior year, making the all-state team. College coaches took an interest in him. Not ones from the really big schools like Pitt or Ohio State. You had to be sick good, and really big, to even get considered by them. But there were lots of smaller colleges that had spots on their rosters for undersized, yet talented players like him.

Betts finally saw light at the end of the tunnel.

That light got snuffed out just before his senior year.

The team had been doing a summer scrimmage with another school when he hit knee-on-knee with an opposing linebacker. His ACL and MCL practically exploded. Betts didn't play a single down all season.

The college coaches stopped calling.

He had no idea what to do, until he's been watching TV one day and saw a commercial for the Army.

"What the hell? I'll join the Army." At that point he'd jump at any opportunity to get out of Wilmington.

Enlisting turned out to be the best decision of his life. He was good at being a soldier. The bond he had with the men around him went far beyond anything he experienced on the football team. When bullets flew and shells exploded around you, the only people you could count on were the ones right there in the foxhole with you. Black, white, brown, yellow, polka dot, color didn't matter. You had your buddy's back, and he had yours.

The Army gave him the home he never knew growing up. With Pastor Steve dead two years now, he had no intention of ever setting foot in Wilmington again.

Or so he thought until the Iranians invaded.

Betts made his way up the ramp of the C-17, the whine of its turbines almost deafening. He eased himself into one of the folding seats attached to the side. Closing his eyes, he leaned back and wondered what he would find in Wilmington. Burned out neighborhoods. Iranian soldiers in every building. He'd heard plenty of stories from the Iraq vets about urban combat. Calling it pure hell was an understatement.

"Hell of a homecoming for you, huh, Sarge?"

Betts opened his eyes and turned to one of the men in his squad, Corporal Larkin.

"What'd you mean?" asked the young man next to Larkin, Private Ojeda.

"You didn't know? The Sarge here is actually from Wilmington."

"Yeah." Betts nodded. "Lucky me."

"You still have family there?" asked Ojeda.

"My mom, who's in jail. My dad might still be around. Not sure, really. The last time I saw him, I was fifteen."

"Oh. Um . . ." Ojeda turned away with a sheepish look on his face.

Betts stared past the private. The ramp started to rise. Soon they'd be in the air, headed toward Delaware, to fight a war on American soil.

The ramp suddenly stopped and went back down.

"Da'hell?" Betts' face scrunched in confusion.

"Everybody out!" shouted the plane's jumpmaster. "Everybody out now!"

"What's going on?" asked Betts' platoon leader, Lieutenant Montague.

"Radar's picked up an incoming bogey," answered the jumpmaster. "Looks like a Mechakong. Everyone needs to get off this aircraft and get to shelter. Now!"

Betts and the other paratroopers got to their feet and shuffled down the ramp as quickly as possible. Sweat covered his body, not from fear or the May heat and humidity, but from terror. Abject terror. He'd seen footage of what the Mechakongs had done earlier in the day. Washington, Norfolk and Manhattan. All destroyed. Mothra dead, maybe King Kong, too. And Danguard Ace didn't look in great shape.

He glanced at the M4 carbine slung over his shoulder. What the hell could he do with that against a giant robot gorilla?

Something roared overhead. Betts looked up and saw tongues of flame illuminating several twin-tailed, delta-wing jets. F-15E Strike Eagles from Seymour Johnson Air Force Base, assigned to escort the 82nd's C-17 and C-130 transports to Delaware.

"Holy shit, look at that!" Larkin pointed to the sky.

Betts saw an orange and gray contrail blazing across the darkness. He swallowed, the sweat on his body turning cold.

Missiles from the F-15Es streaked through the night sky. Betts clenched his jaw, transfixed on the orange tails as they closed with the Mechakong and exploded.

The robot didn't slow down.

Shouts and gasps erupted from the paratroopers as lightning bolts flashed above them. F-15Es vanished in puffs of orange and black.

The Mechakong descended toward the airfield.

"Drop your packs!" Betts ordered. "Drop 'em!"

Larkin and Ojeda just stared at him as he undid the straps to his field pack.

"You expect to run with a hundred pounds of gear on? Get rid of it, you jackasses!"

Larkin and Ojeda did as ordered. Once their packs and chutes lay on the tarmac, the trio took off running. Betts was tempted to make for one of the hangars or other buildings like many of his fellow paratroopers. But one word came to mind when he eyed those big structures.

Target.

"This way!" He led Larkin and Ojeda to a ditch thirty feet beyond the tarmac. They jumped into it as a pair of lightning bolts struck a C-17. A gusher of flames tore the whale-like aircraft in half.

Betts shivered as the Mechakong landed near the edge of the runway. Lightning bolts shot out its eyes. Missiles flew from its chest. Planes exploded like small volcanoes. Betts and the two enlisted men ducked down. The ground shook. Shrapnel buzzed overhead.

Betts clutched his M4, giving him a tiny sense of security. He peered over the lip of the ditch.

_My God. _He shook uncontrollably as he stared up at the Mechakong. TV didn't do it justice. This damn thing was enormous!

It walked down the runway, stomping on transport planes. A Humvee with a pintel-mounted grenade launcher drove toward it.

_Get out of there, you dumbass. _

Puffs of smoke belched from the grenade launcher. Sparks and smoke burst on the Mechakong's left leg. The robot snatched the Humvee, reared back and hurled it into the darkness. He then picked up a C-130 and threw it into a nearby building. The plane smashed through the wall. The fully loaded fuel tanks ignited. A massive column of fire consumed both plane and building.

The Mechakong smashed hangars and buildings up and down the runway. A surviving F-15E dove on it and hit it with two missiles. The Mechakong turned and swatted at the jet. It shattered into a thousand pieces.

The jet pack on the Mechakong roared to life. It shot straight into the sky, then arced to the east.

Betts and his two men waited until they saw no sign of the robot's exhaust before leaving the ditch. He looked around the airfield in disbelief. Dozens of planes burned. So did many buildings. Others lay in twisted, mangled wrecks.

Tears stung Betts' eyes. The smoke in the air had little to do with it. All he could think of was how many of his fellow paratroopers had died in those buildings.

That and the fact they could do nothing to rid his home state of the Iranians.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	10. Chapter 10

Rieger felt a heaviness in the air the moment he returned to The Lair. General Grimaldi, Senior Master Sergeant Hopkins and the techs and scientists who maintained Danguard Ace greeted him, Martinez and Heath with grim expressions.

The most noticeable change in the atmosphere came from Hiroko. She didn't give him her usual ration about all the damage he'd caused to her robot. Instead, she spoke to him in a very business-like tone regarding Danguard Ace's condition and how long she needed to make repairs.

Rieger only half-listened, his eyes shifting to the solemn-looking Delivery Man, who clutched the basket containing Earth's Cosmos. His stomach collapsed, remembering that horrible image of the Mechakong tearing off Mothra's head.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch something. But what good would it do? Releasing his anger wouldn't change the fact that they just got their asses kicked.

After their debriefing, Rieger, Martinez and Heath headed to the mess hall. It was well after dinner hours, but the cooks did leave out some hamburgers and French fries in heated containers, along with plastic cups of coleslaw in a cooler.

Rieger didn't have much of an appetite, but forced himself to eat anyway. He had to keep up his strength. They could also do with some sack time. He had a feeling sleep would be a precious commodity for the foreseeable future.

Rieger was halfway through his second hamburger when General Grimaldi found them and told them of the attacks on Camp Lejeune and Fort Bragg.

Martinez crushed the French fry he held between his thumb and index finger. "Dammit, General. Is anything going our way?"

"Well, the Mechakongs are quiet for the moment. The ones from New York and Baltimore appeared to have sustained moderate to significant damage."

"I have a feeling the Iranians are gonna get them fixed in record time," noted Rieger.

"So any other news about the Iranians, Sir?" asked Heath.

"Last we heard, they're fortifying their positions in Washington and Delaware. They've also landed troops in New York, concentrating them around JFK Airport."

Heath shook his head. "Why are they even landing soldiers? The Iranians don't have near enough troops to take over this country."

"They don't need to," replied Grimaldi. "They just have to occupy a few areas to turn them into support bases, then let the Mechakongs wipe out one city after another until they lay waste to the entire country or we surrender."

Rieger bristled at the general's words, wondering which would be worse, the United States in ruin, or ruled by those oppressive fanatics in Tehran. It was like deciding whether you'd rather be shot with a .38 revolver or a machine gun. Both options really sucked.

"How are Earth's Cosmos doing?" asked Martinez.

"They're conscious," Grimaldi told him. "They're resting in the infirmary. One of the doctors tried to examine them, but their bodyguard wouldn't let him anywhere near them. I told the doc to leave them be. Honestly, I don't think there's anything our medical technology can do for them. Everything we know about Earth's Cosmos suggests they're not even human, but are actually part of the Earth's . . . spirit, for lack of a better word."

Rieger just nodded. "Any word on Godzilla and King Kong?"

"Godzilla retreated to the ocean after fighting the Mechakong in Baltimore. He took a hell of a pounding, so he's probably recovering."

"Let's hope he gets back in the fight soon," said Martinez. "We need the big guy."

"And Kong?" A hopeful look formed on Heath's face.

Grimaldi's shoulders slumped. "We don't know. He took a worse beating than Godzilla. No one's seen a sign of him since that Mechakong threw him into the ocean. We may have to assume the worst."

Rieger plopped his half-eaten burger on the plate. One, possibly two, Guardian Monsters dead, Danguard Ace damaged, and the Iranians with a foothold in the US. How long would it be before those Mechakongs were back in action? How many more cities would be destroyed? How many more Americans would die?

A shiver went up his spine. Would the Iranians actually conquer the US?

_Not while I'm alive._

Rieger pushed himself away from the table and stood. "C'mon, guys. Dinnertime's over. Let's help out with the repairs."

Martinez and Heath stuffed a couple of French fries in their mouths and followed Rieger toward the exit.

"Gentlemen."

The three halted and turned to Grimaldi.

"You've all had a long, tough day. You need to get some rest. I want you fresh for when you go back out there."

Rieger straightened. "With all due respect, General, we need to get Danguard Ace fixed up ASAP, and we won't do that with our eyes closed having erotic dreams about Scarlett Johansson."

Grimaldi let out a long breath. He stared hard at the floor, then looked back up at the trio. "I'll give you two hours to assist with repairs. After that, you get four hours of sack time, and that's an order."

"Yes, Sir," Rieger and his crew replied.

Grimaldi nodded to them. "Carry on."

They left the mess hall. Rieger turned to his two subordinates as they walked down the corridor. "Martinez, I want you to check out Danguard Ace's targeting systems. Heath, you're on the DAS." He used the acronym for the Distributed Aperture System, a network of sensors that allowed Danguard Ace to detect threats from all directions. "I'll take care of the nav aids. And remember, we're fighting a war on our home turf. We don't have the luxury of tinkering until everything's working perfectly. Right now, good enough is fine with me."

**XXXXX**

Major Mehran Afshar sat in the passenger seat of the Humvee, frustration consuming him. They should have been at their target an hour ago. But the convoy's progress up the twisting dirt roads and hilly terrain had been agonizingly slow, especially with the cargo carried by the squat, eight-wheeled HEMTT. It didn't help matters when one of their deuce-and-a-half trucks went off the road and got stuck in a ditch. It took twenty minutes to free the vehicle, after which Afshar pistol-whipped the incompetent driver.

He thumped the dashboard, his teeth grinding together. The private first class driving the Humvee glanced at him nervously. The young man should be nervous. The longer it took to reach their destination, the more time the Americans had to make repairs on Danguard Ace. They might have the damn robot in good enough shape to send it back out. This entire operation hinged on Danguard Ace being there. If it wasn't, he was going to personally shoot some of his commandos.

Afshar constantly checked his GPS. He grew more nervous the closer they got to the target. Their source had told them there were hidden cameras and sensors along the approaches to the base. Blackhawk helicopters also patrolled the perimeter. Security had no doubt already picked them up. They'd probably assume he and his men were part of the Wyoming National Guard, sent here to bolster their defenses. They would never suspect Iranian soldiers operating this far west.

Even so, they would still call the Guard's HQ for confirmation. Afshar was prepared for that. His unit had identified the operator who was on duty at this time, kidnapped her two young daughters, and threatened to kill the little girls if she didn't help them. All she had to do was transfer the call to one of his men, who could flawlessly impersonate the voice of the Wyoming National Guard's Adjutant General.

But the longer it took to reach their target, the greater the risk of being discovered.

They continued to crawl at a snail's pace. Afshar gazed ahead, half-expecting a platoon of USAF Security Forces to appear in the headlights, weapons raised.

None did.

His heart beat faster as they drove the last mile to the base. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

A chainlink fence and gate, topped with barbed wire, appeared before him. A sign was attached to the fence.

UNITED STATES MILITARY INSTALLATION. NO TRESPASSING. USE OF DEADLY FORCE AUTHORIZED.

Eight Security Forces personnel in full battle gear stood at the gate. Afshar's throat went dry. This was far more than he expected.

One of them approached, his left had raised, motioning them to stop. His right hand was wrapped around the pistol grip of his M4.

"Stop," Afshar ordered the PFC.

The young soldier applied the brake. Afshar lowered the window.

"Identify yourself," demanded the guard.

"Major Rodriguez, Wyoming National Guard," Afshar said with a slight Hispanic accent, all the while clutching a silenced 9mm Beretta beside his right leg.

"Right. We've been expecting you."

Afshar suppressed the urge to smile. His ruse had worked.

"Wait here, Sir," said the guard. "I have to call my CO. He'll tell you where to deploy."

"Thank you," Afshar nodded to him.

The guard turned and walked back to the gate.

"Eliminate the guards," Afshar said into his hands-free radio as he stuck the pistol through the open window. He pulled the trigger four times. Three rounds blasted through the base of the guard's neck, nearly decapitating him. He dropped face first to the ground.

Dozens of members of the Quds Force, the Pasdaran's special operations unit, poured out of their trucks and Humvees. The cracks of their M4s merged into a sustained roar. Laser-like tracers streaked through the darkness at the USAF Security Forces personnel. Four of them went down immediately. Two managed to get off a few bursts from their rifles before being struck by 5.56mm rounds. Three grenades exploded among the Americans. More rounds from the disguised Quds troopers tore through the air.

Fifteen seconds after Afshar fired the first shot, all eight USAF guards lay dead.

The Iranians hurried forward, securing the perimeter. A couple of sergeants waved the vehicles in the front of the convoy to the side. The HEMTT, or Heavy Expanded Mobility Tactical Truck, rolled through the gate.

"Hurry! Hurry, damn you!" Afshar shouted at his men before turning to the thick steel door embedded in the mountainside. A security camera was mounted above it. He raised his M4 and shredded it with a pair of three-round bursts.

Quds troopers swarmed around the HEMTT, pulling the tarp off a square-shaped object. Its golden glass portal was aimed at the door.

Afshar dashed out of the way of the lightning discharger, similar to the ones built into the eyes of the Mechakongs. His breathing quickened as he stared at the steel door. Any second the Americans would sound the alarm.

"Lightning discharger at full power," said the soldier in the driver's seat. "Ready to fire."

"Fire!" yelled Afshar.

A bolt flashed over the HEMTT and struck the door. Sparks and flames exploded off its steel surface. The smoldering, melted remains collapsed. The stench of smoke and ozone permeated the air.

Klaxons wailed from within the headquarters of the 1st Monster Assault Wing.

"Go! Go! Go!" Afshar waved at his men as he jumped back in his Humvee. The HEMTT drove through the opening first, followed by Afshar's Humvee, then the rest of the fake National Guard convoy.

**XXXXX**

Their repairs and systems checks went quicker than Rieger expected. One reason being he, Martinez and Heath cut some corners in order to get their systems in working order. Well, he and Martinez cut corners. That proved more difficult for Heath, who could be a bit of a perfectionist when it came to any electronic device. An admirable trait, at least during peacetime. Not so much when the Iranians were using robot gorillas to destroy American cities.

The three knocked off well before the two-hour time limit imposed on them by General Grimaldi. They took the elevator in Danguard Ace's rear to the floor and walked through the massive underground hangar. None of them spoke. Rieger certainly wasn't in the mood for conversation. Today had been a horrible day, one of the worst in his life. Failure weighed upon him. He'd lost. They'd lost. His crew had the most sophisticated weapons system in the world, and they still couldn't beat the Iranians who had invaded their country.

They made their way through the corridors, making for the base's living quarters. Rieger lowered his head, wondering if he'd be able to fall asleep, or if he'd just lie in his bunk cursing himself for not destroying –

Klaxons blared. Rieger halted and snapped his head up.

"What the hell's going on?" Heath quickly looked up and down the corridor.

"Intruder alert!" a voice boomed over the P/A. "Intruder alert! All personnel to your emergency stations!"

"Let's go!" Rieger drew his Beretta pistol and took off down the corridor. Martinez and Heath followed him to their emergency station.

The cockpit of Danguard Ace.

**XXXXX**

Major Afshar's eyes shifted between the windshield and his iPad. So far the diagram of the base provided him by their source inside MAW-1 proved accurate. He expected it to be. The scientist they turned had a terrible secret to keep, one all the Americans' security screenings never discovered.

The fat lump of filth liked to dress up as a baby and have teenage prostitutes service him.

Afshar's stomach twisted at the thought. Disgusting! Just when he thought the non-believers could not get any more perverted. He looked forward to the day when the Great Satan yielded to the reborn Persian Empire. Those like the scientist who engaged in such sickening behavior would be exterminated like the vermin they were.

At least the sub-human scum had one use, to give them the layout of MAW-1 HQ, aka The Lair. And according to the diagram on his iPad, they should be coming to the last security door on the way to the hangar.

The HEMTT slowed to a stop as it neared the heavy steel door. The other vehicles followed suit.

Lightning spat from the HEMTT. The security door blew apart.

Two platoons of Quds troopers jumped out of their trucks and sprinted forward. One platoon went left, the other right.

Afshar and the rest of the force continued toward the hangar.

**XXXXX**

Rieger dashed into the hangar. He stopped to take a couple deep breaths to fill his burning lungs. Martinez also breathed heavier than usual following their sprint.

Heath, on the other hand, gasped and looked ready to collapse. Unlike him and Martinez, exercise was nowhere to be found on Sergeant Heath's to-do list.

Rieger scanned the hangar. Security Forces personnel hustled scientists and techs out of the area. Humvees with .50 caliber machine guns and grenade launchers sat fifty feet from the maw of the vehicle tunnel leading into the hangar. Several Security Forces personnel took up position around the squat vehicles, M4s and combat shotguns at the ready.

_Hiroko_. Dread stabbed Rieger's gut. She had gone to the mess hall for a quick bite minutes before he and his crew left Danguard Ace. Was she okay? What would these intruders do if they caught her?

His throat constricted. The urge to turn around and find her overwhelmed him.

_Then you'd be in dereliction of duty._

Was fear of punishment worth letting something happen to Hiroko?

"Major Rieger!"

He turned to find Major Summers, the head of base security, running toward him.

"What's going on?"

Summers waved for them to walk toward Danguard Ace. Rieger looked over his shoulder, Hiroko dominating his thoughts.

"A bunch of hostiles disguised as US soldiers infiltrated The Lair," Summers explained.

"Iranians?" asked Martinez.

"I don't know who else would do it right now. General Grimaldi wants you three to get Danguard Ace out of here ASAP."

"What about Hir . . . Doctor Kawasumi?" Another thought hit Rieger. "And Earth's Cosmos?"

"The General wants you to evac both of them. We can't afford to have them fall into enemy hands. I sent Sergeant Hopkins and a few other men to escort them here."

Relief flooded Rieger's body. If anyone could keep Hiroko safe, it would be the big Senior Master Sergeant. "Thanks," he said to Summers.

The security chief nodded. He knew how much Hiroko meant to him. Though in a situation like this, Rieger doubted sentiment had anything to do with the decision to get Hiroko out of here. The woman was one of the world's foremost experts in anti-kaiju robots. It would be a coup for the Iranians to get their hands on her and extract every bit of knowledge they could from her.

The thought of what the secret police-types would do to Hiroko to get that knowledge made him sick to his stomach.

_C'mon, Hopkins. Get her here._

Rieger's hand tightened on the grip of his Beretta as they headed for Danguard Ace.

"Movement!" shouted one of the Security Forces members around the Humvees. "I've got movement in the tunnel!"

Rieger's chest tightened.

"Oh shit," Heath muttered.

"C'mon!" Summers shouted. "Double-time it!"

A bang and a _whoosh _erupted from the tunnel. A contrail flew out of it toward the Humvees.

"Hit the deck!"

Rieger threw himself on the floor as an explosion rocked the hangar.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	11. Chapter 11

Rieger grimaced at the ringing in his ears. He rolled on his side, the stench of smoke filling his nostrils.

Flames gushed from one of the Humvees. Four Security Forces personnel lay on the ground unmoving, all burned, some missing limbs. Rieger clenched his teeth to fight back the bile rising into his throat.

Soldiers stormed into the hangar. For a split second, he thought they were reinforcements. They wore tan, gray and green pixel Army Combat Uniforms and carried M4 rifles, M249 light machine guns, even a few AT-4 rocket launchers.

Then they began firing at the Security Forces personnel.

"Go! Go! Go!" Major Summers shouted over the roar of gunfire. "Get to the robot!"

The security chief fired his M4 from one knee.

Rieger got into a crouch and turned to his crew. Martinez also got up. Heath rolled on the ground, covering his ears. Both Rieger and Martinez grabbed the sergeant and yanked him to his feet. They took off running, half-carrying Heath.

Two bullets cracked past them.

"I'm fine! I'm fine!" Heath shouted. He pulled himself free of Rieger and Martinez and ran on his own, apparently spurred into action by the near misses.

Another Humvee exploded. Rounds cracked and zipped around them. Rieger turned and fired his Beretta. So did Martinez. He doubted they'd hit any intruders from this range with pistols. At most it would make them duck.

Summers fired steady bursts from his M4 while half-running, half-shuffling backwards. Two fake US soldiers fell.

They were about fifty yards from Danguard Ace. No matter how hard Rieger pumped his legs, he never seemed to get any closer to the giant robot.

A flash of movement to his right caught his attention. Two Air Force techs and a civilian scientist twisted and collapsed, splotches of blood on their torsos. Anger flared inside him. He turned and fired until he emptied his clip.

The last of the Security Forces personnel around the Humvees crumpled to the ground and didn't move. Rieger counted more than two dozen intruders rushing across the hangar.

He looked back at Danguard Ace, at least thirty yards away. His insides turned cold.

They weren't going to make it.

**XXXXX**

General Grimaldi ducked behind the pile of overturned desks. He shivered as rounds cracked overhead. The four remaining Security Forces personnel around him fired back at the intruders.

Nausea threatened to set his stomach on fire. He'd never been more scared in his entire life. A hell of a thing for a general to admit. But all the fighting he'd ever done had been in the cockpits of B-52 and B-1 bombers. He'd never had so much as a single enemy bullet shot at his plane.

Here, with bullets zipping all around, he felt naked, inadequate, without tons of steel around him and an array of bombs and missiles at his fingertips.

Grimaldi closed his eyes and drew a breath. He had to push aside his fear. This was his base. It didn't matter if all he had was a pistol, he would defend it.

He peeked over the edge of the desk and spotted an intruder poking around the corner of the corridor. The fake US soldier fired a few bursts from his M4. Grimaldi squeezed the trigger of his pistol until the intruder ducked back around the corner.

"General!" someone hollered over the exchange of gunfire.

He turned to find Major Blake, MAW-1's intelligence officer, belly-crawling across the floor.

"What is it, Major?"

"The Iranians are in the hangar. They've already breached the living quarters and the armory."

"What about the control center?"

"It's still secure," Blake answered. "The Security Forces already pushed back one attack, but I don't know how much longer they'll be able to hold. They've already suffered heavy casualties, and with the Iranians in control of the armory we can't get any more weapons or ammunition."

Bullets thumped against the desks. One of the SF men pitched backwards, blood flowing from his throat. Blake gaped at the man.

"Focus, Major." Grimaldi waited until Blake turned to him, the woman's eyes still wide with shock.

"Anything else to report?"

She drew a breath before speaking. "Normally we'd call the Wyoming National Guard for reinforcements for a situation like this, but when we called them to vouch for that convoy, look what happened." She nodded down the corridor, where the Iranians continued to fire at them. "We can't risk calling them again. We don't know how deep they've been infiltrated."

Grimaldi tensed. With the National Guard compromised, the closest unit they could call for help was the 90th Security Forces Group at Warren Air Force Base in Cheyenne. Of course, since that base oversaw more than a hundred Minuteman III ICBMs, they'd be hesitant to part with any guards, especially in wartime. Even if they did spare a few, Cheyenne was about 360 miles east of here. No way would they reach The Lair in time.

A dark mass spread throughout Grimaldi's soul. The base, his base, would likely fall.

"Major. I want you to oversee the evacuation of all non-combat personnel from The Lair."

"Yes, Sir. What about you?"

He paused before answering. "I'm going to activate the Cerberus Protocol."

Blake stared at him with wide eyes. Grimaldi avoided her gaze.

Never did he imagine he'd actually have to use the damn thing.

**XXXXX**

Rieger dropped to his knees, ramming a fresh clip into his Beretta, wondering if it would do any good. The Iranians rushed across the hangar floor. Any second he expected bullets to tear into his body. Danguard Ace would be stuck here, at the mercy of the Iranians.

So would Hiroko.

_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

_I love you._

"What the hell?" Martinez blurted.

Rieger looked up. A jet of water lashed through the air and struck the advancing Iranians. Several tumbled to the floor.

A large, squat yellow vehicle rolled toward them, water spewing from its cab-mounted cannon. A P-23 fire truck. Two Security Forces personnel lay prone on the roof, blazing away with their M4s.

"Major!" another SF man waved out the passenger side window. "Sorry it's not a tank, but we had to improvise."

"I'm not complaining, Airman," said Summers.

Rieger grinned. "God bless American ingenuity."

Summers had the fire truck pull in front of them. He then turned to Rieger and his crew. "You men get to Danguard Ace now. We'll hold 'em off."

"Just a handful of you and a fire truck?" said Rieger. "How long -"

"Move your asses!" Summers yelled before firing his M4 around the cab.

Rieger stared at the security chief, not wanting to abandon a man he'd worked with every day for the past year.

_And what will you accomplish staying here and dying with him?_

Throat constricting, he turned and ran toward Danguard Ace, waving for Martinez and Heath to follow. He pulled a small remote from his pocket and hit the red button. A platform with a three-sided metal shield descended from the rear of the robot.

Rieger looked back. Water continued to shoot from the P-23's cannon. Summers and his Security Forces personnel laid down cover fire.

He turned back to the elevator. My God, it was taking forever to reach the ground.

_C'mon, dammit._

Rieger felt like he waited an eternity for the elevator to reach them. He hit the button of his remote again right after they all jumped onto the platform. It ascended, oh so slowly.

"Holy crap," Heath muttered as he gazed out at the hangar.

Several Iranians lay on the floor, completely soaked. Parts of the shallow, artificial lake created by the P-23's water cannon showed streaks of blood. Smoke hung in the air from the burning Humvees. Here and there little knots of SF personnel and Iranians shot it out.

Rieger swallowed. How the hell were Hiroko and Earth's Cosmos supposed to get through that?

**XXXXX**

Hiroko thought back two years ago, when she'd been in a bunker under Ministry of Defense Headquarters in Tokyo while Godzilla and King Ghidorah battled throughout the city. She had shivered with every artificial quake created by the monsters' footfalls. Any moment she expected the ceiling to cave in, burying her alive. She couldn't remember ever being so afraid.

Until now.

She hugged herself as she crouched beside the wall. Up ahead, Senior Master Sergeant Hopkins and another SF man fired around the corner. The Iranians shot back. Bullets cracked and pinged and zipped through the corridor. One hit the wall barely four inches from her head. Fear turned her body ice cold.

Hiroko shivered, praying for the shooting to stop, and praying for someone else.

_Jim._

Was he all right? Had he been shot? Tears stung her eyes at the thought he could be dead. Finally she had met someone who wasn't intimidated by her intellect, who wasn't obsessed with her looks. He respected her, he wasn't afraid to say he loved her.

Jim couldn't be dead. He just couldn't.

"Move! Move!" Hopkins shouted.

Hiroko looked up, and realized the shooting had stopped.

"Come, Doctor." The Delivery Man took her arm and pulled her to her feet, all the while clutching the basket containing Earth's Cosmos against his hip. They, Hopkins, and five other SF men ran through the corridors. More gunfire sounded in the distance. It grew louder by the second. Hiroko's stomach twisted when she realized they were running toward it!

"Sergeant Hopkins." She called out. "Should we be going this way? The shooting . . ."

"This is the way to the hangar, Doc. We don't have much choice if we wanna reach Danguard Ace."

Hiroko's jaw tightened. She hoped Jim had made it to Danguard Ace, and in one piece. What if –

A door to her left opened. Two men in combat fatigues emerged. She skidded to a halt before smashing into them. At first she assumed they were Security Forces. Then she noticed the tanned skin, the hardened expressions, the look of contempt when they turned toward her.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" blurted an SF man named Leary near her, probably assuming, like she had, they were comrades of his.

His eyes widened when the two brought up their M4s.

It happened in blur. The Delivery Man pulled a knife from his waistband and swept his arm in a wide arc. Blood sprayed from the first Iranian's throat. Some of it spattered on Hiroko's shoulder. She gasped and jumped back.

The Delivery Man brought his arm back and drove the blade into the second Iranian's chest. The man stood there, mouth agape, as blood poured down his torso. The Delivery Man yanked the knife out of the Iranian's chest as he sagged to his knees. He then threw it into the room.

Hiroko hesitantly peered around the frame. A third Iranian lay on his back, the knife jutting from his right eye.

"Holy shit, did you see that?" Leary gawked at the Delivery Man. "We need to have this guy with us full time."

Hiroko blinked. She stared at the dead Iranians, then the blood on her clothes. Her knees buckled. Hot and cold flashes went through her body.

She doubled over and vomited.

"You okay, Doc?" Hopkins helped her straightened up.

She straightened up and nodded. "Y-Yes. Thank you." Embarrassment welled up inside, wondering if the men around her thought her weak for throwing up in the middle of all this.

"Keep it together, Doc," Hopkins told her. "We're gonna get you outta here. That's a promise."

Hiroko stared at the big NCO. Even with hell unleashed all around them, the look in his eyes, the expression on his face, made it impossible for her to doubt him.

_And he's right. _Giving in to fear would likely get her killed, along with everyone else around her.

_Along with many others outside this base. _She had to get out of here on Danguard Ace so she could finish repairing the robot. Jim and his crew needed it working at a hundred percent for their next battle if they had any hope of defeating the Iranian Mechakongs and saving millions of lives.

"Move it, people!" Hopkins ordered.

They sprinted down the corridor. Hiroko tensed as the gunfire grew louder. She forced herself to keep moving.

The entrance to the hangar appeared. Fear bore into her soul. A haze of gray smoke hovered in the air. Groups of men fired from behind crates, carts and other pieces of equipment.

Had Jim made it through all that?

"Geddown!" Hopkins waved them to the floor.

Everyone dropped to their stomachs and crawled into the hangar. Stacks of crates blocked them from the view of the Iranians.

Something moved to Hiroko's right. She turned and saw a pudgy, middle-aged man with thinning black hair crawling on all fours toward an electric cart.

"Doctor Gilbreath."

He snapped his head toward her, eyes wide.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

Gilbreath said nothing. His eyes flickered between her and the Delivery Man. He took quick, deep breaths, turned toward the gun battle, then back to her.

Hiroko furrowed her brow. What was wrong with Dr. Gilbreath? She didn't know the mechanical engineer assigned to Danguard Ace's support group very well. The man mostly kept to himself.

She swallowed and stiffened her face. "Don't worry. Sergeant Hopkins and his men will get us out of here."

Gilbreath continued to stare at her without saying a word.

"There they are."

Hiroko turned to Hopkins, who pointed at Danguard Ace. She saw the elevator rising between the robot's legs, three figures on its platform.

A smile broke out on her face. One of them had to be Jim.

_Thank God._

"Let's go." Hopkins ordered. "Stay behind cover. We'll try to sneak our way over to Danguard Ace."

They crawled behind the equipment. Hiroko hacked on the smoke and cordite that saturated the hangar when a roar caught her attention. She looked over her shoulder and between the gaps in the equipment. A HEMTT carrying a large, square device rolled into the hangar. Behind it came a Humvee. A lean soldier stepped out the passenger side door, scanning the area with an appraising eye.

Dr. Gilbreath continued to crouch behind the cart, gazing at the newly arrived vehicles.

"Doctor Gilbreath," Hiroko called to him. "Hurry."

He looked to her, then back to the Iranians. His entire body quivered.

_What is the matter with him?_

Gilbreath clenched his fists, then sprang to his feet.

"Get down!" Hiroko shouted.

"Over here!" Gilbreath yelled and waved his arms. "Over here! Doctor Kawasumi's here! And Earth's Cosmos! Earth's Cosmos!"

Shock slammed into Hiroko. She just gaped at Gilbreath. Had he gone mad?

"Traitor!" The Delivery Man set down his basket. He whipped out a knife and sprang at Gilbreath.

"No! No!" He held up his hands toward the Iranians. "I helped you!"

The Delivery Man swung his knife hand at Gilbreath's throat.

"I helped -"

Gunfire erupted. Hiroko yelped as bullets tore into Gilbreath's fleshy frame. He went into spasms before falling to the floor.

The Delivery Man twitched, blood exploding across the right side of his body.

"Sergeant Hopkins!" Hiroko screamed, scrambling toward the fallen men.

She clenched her teeth, fighting back the urge to vomit as she neared Gilbreath. His entire torso had turned scarlet. A coppery odor slithered into her nostrils. She swallowed against the rising bile.

Hopkins crawled past her. He checked on Gilbreath, then turned to her and shook his head. Next he went over to the Delivery Man. A raspy breath escaped his lips. Shivers went up and down Hiroko's spine. She doubted the big Polynesian would live much longer.

"Earth's Cosmos," he wheezed. "Earth's Cosmos."

"They're fine," replied Hopkins. "Just take it easy. We're gonna get you fixed up."

Hiroko's jaw quivered. She could tell from the sergeant's tone that he didn't believe his own words.

The Delivery Man struggled to lift his head. "Earth's Cosmos. I . . . I entrust them to you. G-Guard . . . Guard them with your life."

Hopkins clasped a hand on the Delivery Man's shoulder. "I will. You have my word."

The Delivery Man gave a shaky nod. He lowered his head to the floor and closed his eyes for the last time.

**XXXXX**

A grin stretched across Major Afshar's face as he stared at the cart where their mole Gilbreath and the big bronze man had fallen behind. He had intended to kill the scientist from the start and rid the world of his perversions. He never dreamed he'd be able to do it in the middle of this operation. But even in his last moments of life, the disgusting Gilbreath had helped him.

Doctor Hiroko Kawasumi, Danguard Ace, and much to his surprise, Earth's Cosmos, all in this hangar. Capturing all three in one fell swoop would be one of the greatest triumphs in the history of the Pasdaran, the history of the Persian people. And the benefits they would bring to the reborn Persian Empire . . .

Their power would be absolute. His reward would be great. They might just skip over colonel and promote him to general. Electricity shot through him as he thought of the wealth and power that would come with his new rank.

Afshar looked behind him as six Quds troopers broke from cover and charged toward Danguard Ace.

"No!" He shouted at them, then pointed to where Dr. Kawasumi, Earth's Cosmos and their escorts hid. "Take them!"

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	12. Chapter 12

Sweat drenched Grimaldi's face. His legs burned as he sucked down one breath after another. He couldn't remember running this much since basic training way back when.

But the sound of gunfire motivated him to keep running. The Security Forces had kept the Iranians from breaking through to the control center.

The muffled thumps of grenades echoed through the corridor, followed by the sharp explosion from an AT-4 rocket.

Grimaldi swallowed. How much longer could his SF personnel hold out?

_Just a little longer. Please._

The general nearly stumbled into the control center, out of breath. He placed a hand over his chest as several officers and NCO at their consoles turned to him.

"General." A short, dark haired female lieutenant jumped out of her seat. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, Lieutenant Knapp," Grimaldi wheezed and headed for the top row of consoles.

"Do you need to sit down?" asked Knapp. "Do you need any water?"

He ignored the questions. "Is the silo door open for Danguard Ace?"

"Yes, Sir. Major Rieger's crew can take off as soon as they're aboard."

"Good." Grimaldi nodded, his breathing slowing a bit. "Good foresight."

"Thank you, Sir."

He sat at his command console and took a few more deep breaths before looking around at the men and women in the center. "I'm going to activate the Cerberus Protocol."

Everyone stared at him in shock.

"The base will likely fall," Grimaldi told them. "We have no choice."

The men and women continued to stare at him. Then one by one, they nodded, forcing themselves to accept the decision.

Grimaldi tapped out a ten-character password on the keyboard. When the computer accepted it, a panel opened on the console, showing an image of a hand. He placed his palm on it. The panel glowed green for a couple seconds. Words appeared on the screen.

PALM PRINT CONFIRMED. GRIMALDI, FRANCIS D. MAJOR GENERAL. USAF. ACCESS GRANTED.

A short _click_ came from a clear, plastic casing on the left side of the console. Grimaldi flipped it open and stared at the small slot in the center. He removed his neck strap, which had a flash drive dangling from the end. The image of a three-headed dog was emblazoned on its surface.

Grimaldi stared at the flash drive, his thumb and index finger squeezing it harder. Part of him felt using this would label him a failure. He should have been able to defend his base against an attack like this.

The explosions and gunfire from the corridor grew louder.

Clenching his teeth, he jammed the flash drive into the slot.

ACTIVATE CERBERUS PROTOCOL? YES/NO.

Grimaldi clicked YES.

He hung his head. When it completely downloaded, the Cerberus Virus would infect every computer in The Lair. The Iranians would never get hold of the data regarding Danguard Ace, its operational history, or the backgrounds of everyone assigned to MAW-1.

They also wouldn't be able to access the base's security cameras, sensors and communications . . .

. . . and close the silo door to trap Danguard Ace in here.

Grimaldi looked up at the screen.

CERBERUS PROTOCOL DOWNLOAD: 10 PERCENT . . . 20 PERCENT . . . 30 PERCENT.

An explosion shook the control center.

Grimaldi turned to the door, then back to the computer screen.

CERBERUS PROTOCOL DOWNLOAD: 35 PERCENT.

_Hurry the hell up!_

**XXXXX**

Rieger looked up. The elevator was about thirty feet from Danguard Ace's back. Thirty more feet and they'd be out of view of the Iranians.

He stared back down at the hangar floor. The P-23 fire truck continued to hose down the Iranians, while Major Summers and his SF men blazed away.

Once inside Danguard Ace, they could take some pressure off the security ch-

"Major Summers!" Martinez hollered. "RPG! RPG to your right!"

Rieger saw an Iranian stand up from behind a crate, an AT-4 rocket launcher on his shoulder.

Summers fired his M4 around the cab of the fire truck, unaware of the new threat.

"Pete!" Rieger shouted. "Pete! To your right! Your right!"

A flash came from the tube of the AT-4. Rieger watched in wide-eye horror as the contrail streaked toward the fire truck. It struck the cab. A fireball consumed it, and Major Pete Summers.

"Oh my God." Sergeant Heath gawked at the burning fire truck, his body trembling.

Rieger closed his eyes as the elevator ascended along Danguard Ace's back. His chest tightened as he thought of Summers' nine year old son.

_Mourn later. You've got fighting to do._

The elevator stopped between the robot's shoulderblades, then slid forward through an open hatch. Once inside, the sides of the elevator swung away. Rieger, Martinez and Heath hurried down the small corridor and up the stairs to the cockpit. They took their seats, put on their helmets, and pressed buttons. A multitude of lights and screens flickered to life. A rumble came from the engines.

"Control, Danguard Ace."

"This is Control," replied Lieutenant Knapp. "Go, Danguard Ace."

"Crew is aboard, engines are hot. Just awaiting precious cargo."

"Roger, Danguard Ace. Silo door open. Take-off is at your discretion."

"Roger. Out."

Rieger looked over to Heath. "Heath. Scan the hangar for any sign of Doctor Kawasumi and her group."

"Yes, Sir."

He looked up at the main monitor. Every muscle in his body tensed.

_Please be out there. Please be okay._

The cameras swept over the hangar. Rieger's eyes locked on the screen, looking, hoping, for any sign of Hiroko.

"There!" He pointed.

"Magnifying," Heath stated.

The camera zoomed in. Relief filled Rieger as he saw Hiroko sheltered behind several pieces of equipment, along with Hopkins and a few other SF men.

That relief vanished when he saw tracers zipping around them, and a group of Iranian soldiers clustered around a Humvee and a HEMTT.

"Bob!" he called to Martinez. "What do we have for weapons?"

"Particle beams are still offline. Only one rail gun's working." He turned to him, a small smile tracing his lips. "Gatling guns are good to go."

Rieger nodded. "Clear a path for Doctor Kawasumi and the others. I'll get the elevator ready for them."

"You got it."

Rieger started to head to the door, then stopped. He dashed to the right side of the cockpit and tapped a six-digit code into a wall-mounted keypad. A hatch slid open, revealing a small armory. Rieger snatched a stubby MP5 submachine gun and two extra magazines and sprinted out of the cockpit. He reached the elevator and hit the green button on the wall. The hatch slid open. He checked outside to make sure the floor beneath was clear.

_Holy shit._

Four long, tubular recoilless rifles sat below him, each one with a thick rope extending from it. Each rope had been tipped with a suction cup that attached itself to Danguard Ace's back. Four Iranian commandos shimmied up the ropes. They not only carried rifles, but acetylene torches.

Eight more Iranians stood around the recoilless rifles. They all looked up at him.

Rieger swallowed as they raised their rifles and fired.

**XXXXX**

Major Afshar crouched by the hood of the Humvee, six other Quds troopers behind him. Two more troopers kept up a steady stream of fire with their M249 Squad Automatic Weapons. They'd taken out two Security Forces men, and pinned down the survivors.

_It's time._ He would personally lead the men in the capture of Dr. Kawasumi and Earth's Cosmos. He would go down as a legend in the Pasdaran, in the entire Persian Empire.

Using hand signals, he directed three Quds troopers to sweep around to the right, while he led the remaining men in an assault on the left flank. The SAW gunners would provide cover fire.

Afshar raised an arm over his head, then brought it down and pointed to their quarry.

He and the Quds troopers got to their feet.

A loud whine came from Danguard Ace. They all turned to the giant robot.

_No!_ His eyes widened. The engines. Danguard Ace was preparing to take off!

"No!" He radioed the men in the HEMTT. "Echo Seven! Echo Seven! Disable Danguard Ace. Shoot it in the leg. Do not let it escape."

A hum came from the lightning discharger carried by the HEMTT. Afshar held his breath, waiting for the bolt to –

A monstrous roar sounded from Danguard Ace. Tracers streaked from its shoulder-mounted 75mm gatling guns. Carters exploded in the floor, closing in on the HEMTT. A flash of blue jumped from the discharger just as huge shells tore apart the cab. A shower of sparks erupted from the shredded lighting discharger. Afshar turned away.

A shell pulverized his body into reddish slop.

**XXXXX**

Rieger gritted his teeth and groaned. He sat on the floor and ran a hand over his helmet, feeling a jagged scar on the top.

_A couple inches lower and . . ._

He tried to forget about the bullet that could have killed him. Gripping his MP5, he peered over the edged of the hatch, hoping for a shot at the Iranians climbing toward him.

The ones by the recoilless rifles opened fire again.

Rieger ducked back inside. Rounds pinged around the open hatch. A few buzzed inside, striking the wall and the ceiling.

Taking a deep breath, Rieger rolled on his side and stuck the MP5 over the edge. He pulled the trigger and swept the submachine gun back and forth. When the magazine ran dry, he pulled the weapon back, and carefully peered outside.

Only three Iranians now climbed toward him. The body of the fourth lay at the feet of the commandos on the floor.

_Gotta love lucky shots._

He doubted he'd have that luck again, especially as the Iranians on the ground sent a barrage of 5.56mm rounds at him.

Rieger backed away from the hatch. He sat against the wall and weighed his options. He could just close the hatch, but the three Iranians would attack it with their acetylene torches. Could Hopkins and his men pick them off from the floor, provided they could get past the ones by the recoilless rifles?

Another option came to mind. A risky one, a _very_ risky one. But if it worked, he could take care of the boarders, and maybe give Hopkins and the others covering fire from above.

Rieger didn't close the hatch. Instead he took cover in the stairwell, inserted a fresh clip into his MP5 and watched the entrance.

The seconds passed like hours. Could he really do this? He was a fighter pilot, not a groundpounder. True he had more experience with firearms than most pilots, having hunted since the age of eleven. Of course, the wild turkeys and elk he'd hunted in his native Arizona didn't shoot back, like the Iranians could.

He considered calling Martinez and Heath to help him out, but he wanted them in the cockpit, covering Hiroko and the others.

_You're on your own for this one, Jimmy Boy._

Sweat drenched his brow. His stomach twisted. He tried to take steady breaths as his grip on the MP5 tightened.

Something clanged on the floor by the elevator. Moments later he heard another clanging sound. He peered around the corner.

Two baseball-like objects lay on the floor.

_Shit._

He pulled his head back.

The grenades exploded. Shrapnel pinged and zipped throughout the corridor.

"Jim!" Martinez's voice burst from his headphones. "What was that? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Bob. You and Heath just cover Doctor Kawasumi and the others. I've got things under control down here." _I hope._

A pause. "Roger."

He continued to crouch on the stairs. His heart hammered to the point he thought all of Wyoming could hear it.

_You can do this._

_You have to do this._

He heard a scuffling around the corner. He swallowed.

The Iranians were inside Danguard Ace.

He heard more scuffling, then whispered voices, then soft footfalls.

Footfalls coming his way.

Rieger drew a breath, then softly exhaled. He could feel the Iranians getting closer.

_Three . . . two . . . one!_

Rieger whipped around the corner and brought up his MP5. He barely took time to aim. He just squeezed the trigger again and again.

All three Iranians stumbled backwards. Blood spurted from the arm of one of them.

None of them went down.

The MP5 clicked empty. Rieger spun back around into the stairwell just as a hail of bullets ripped through the corridor.

_Dammit, dammit, dammit! _He yanked out the empty clip and shoved in his last full one. The bastards had to have body armor.

One of the Iranians shouted. Booted feet thumped toward him.

Only one thing to do.

Rieger dove out of the stairwell and landed on the floor. He aimed low and fired. Rounds tore through the unprotected legs of the Iranians. One cried out and collapsed. A second lowered his M4 and fired. Bullets cracked inches above Rieger. He kept firing until the last two Iranians crumpled to the floor.

He tossed aside the empty MP5 and pulled out his Beretta pistol. One of the Iranians still clutched his M4. Rieger bounded over to him and put three rounds into his face.

The second Iranian lay on his back, his face pale, a pool of blood expanding from his left leg. Rieger figured he'd hit the soldier's femoral artery. He'd probably be dead in another five minutes.

Rieger sped up the process with two rounds to the head.

He looked up at the third Iranian. The man crawled toward the open hatch, trailing streaks of blood. He didn't carry an M4.

Rieger stalked over to him. His jaw clenched. Could he just shoot an unarmed man?

He stopped for a moment, thinking of Major Summers getting blown to pieces just minutes ago. He thought of all the other friends and colleagues killed or wounded in the attack. He thought of the thousands, probably hundreds of thousands, dead and wounded in all the attacks on the East Coast.

Rage burned inside Rieger. Men like this one had invaded his country, wanted to take it over, oppress his fellow Americans.

He was supposed to show mercy toward someone like this?

Rieger closed the gap between them. The Iranian rolled on his side. He looked up at Rieger. To his surprise, the Iranian smiled.

"You plan to kill me, American?" he asked in very good English. "Do it. I shall go to Paradise knowing that your faithless, perverted country will soon bow down to the reborn Persian Empire."

The Iranian's smile grew wider.

Rieger scowled. "Give my regards to the seventy-two virgins."

Rieger shoved his boot into the Iranian's gut. The man tumbled over the edge of the elevator hatch. He screamed as he fell through the air. Those screams faded, faded . . .

There was a dull thump. The screaming stopped.

Rieger exhaled, then got on his belly and peered over the edge.

To his surprise, all the Iranians around the recoilless rifles lay dead. Hiroko, Hopkins and three SF men stood around them. She looked up and waved. Rieger waved back, then grimaced. Fire shot through his right biceps. He saw a tear in the upper sleeve of his flightsuit, along with some blood. Shock gripped him.

_I got shot! _He hadn't even been aware of it at the time. Must have been all the adrenaline going through him. Hopkins had told him about men in combat who didn't know they'd been shot until minutes after the fighting had ended.

The wound burned like someone stabbed him with a hot poker. He clenched his teeth, trying to fight off the pain.

They weren't out of the woods yet.

Rieger hit the elevator button. It descended to the floor, then returned with Hiroko, Senior Master Sergeant Hopkins and the SF personnel.

"Jim!" Hiroko threw her arms around him. He hugged her back, groaning as pain tore through his arm.

"What wrong?" Hiroko's eyes bulged when she saw his wound. "Jim! You're hurt."

"'Tis but a flesh wound'." He managed a smile, throwing out one of his favorite lines from _Monty Python and the Holy Grail._

It did nothing to erase the worry from her face.

Rieger looked over at Hopkins, who held the basket containing Earth's Cosmos.

"Where's the Delivery Man?"

"He didn't make it," the sergeant answered in a flat voice.

Rieger's shoulders slumped. He closed his eyes and pushed aside the news. Again, he didn't have time to mourn.

"C'mon. Everyone to the cockpit. It's time we got the hell out of Dodge."

**XXXXX**

Grimaldi's heart slammed against his chest. Gunfire roared just outside the door. He doubted the remaining Security Forces men would last much longer.

He stared back at the screen.

CERBERUS PROTOCOL DOWNLOAD: 85 PERCENT . . . 90 PERCENT.

"Oh God, c'mon," he muttered under his breath.

"Danguard Ace liftoff," announced Lieutenant Knapp.

Grimaldi looked up at the main screen. Flames gushed from the robot's engines as it rose from its launch pad.

_Go, go g-_

The door to the control center exploded. The concussion sent Grimaldi crashing against the console. He glimpsed the Cerberus Protocol screen.

95 PERCENT.

Bullets cracked and buzzed through the room. Knapp went into spasms and fell out of her chair. Grimaldi's throat clenched as he saw the young woman's lifeless eyes staring at him.

He tore himself away from Knapp's body and checked the screen.

96 PERCENT.

More gunfire. Three more control center personnel collapsed. Grimaldi got to his feet, sighted the closest Iranian, and fired his pistol. The soldier stumbled back. Grimaldi saw no blood.

_Body armor._

He aimed higher. Bloody holes appeared in the Iranian's chin and cheek. He spun around and fell.

Grimaldi saw another Iranian to his right. He turned . . .

The Iranian fired his M4.

A wave of hot and cold blasted through Grimaldi's body. His knees buckled. He clutched the chair to keep from falling to the floor.

CERBERUS PROTOCOL DOWNLOAD: 98 PERCENT.

He groaned and fired his pistol. None of the rounds hit the Iranian, who fired again.

Three rounds punched through Grimaldi's chest.

The pistol dropped from his hands. The world went out of focus. Distorted voices hovered around him. He held onto the console with a shaky hand. His vision condensed into a tunnel. Still he could just make out the screen.

CERBERUS PROTOCOL DOWNLOAD: 99 PERCENT . . . 100 PERCENT.

Lights flickered on and off. Monitors and computer screens went black.

Major General Frank Grimaldi managed the briefest of smiles before the Iranian shot him in the head at point blank range.

**XXXXX**

"Clear of silo," Heath announced as Danguard Ace shot out of the ground and climbed into the night sky.

Rieger's muscles unwound. He waited until the robot reached angels fifteen, or 15,000 feet, before he leveled out. He switched to auto pilot and leaned back in his seat. His arm burned like hell.

_We made it._

His chest tightened. _Some of us made it._

He looked over at Hiroko. His stomach fluttered. More than anything he wanted to wrap his arms around her and keep her safe from the chaos that had descended upon his country.

Hiroko caught his gaze. Her eyes shifted to his injured arm. Worry swirled in her eyes.

"What do we do now, Major?" asked Hopkins, who sat in one of the JAFO seats holding Earth's Cosmos' basket.

"How about go stomp those robot gorillas," suggested Leary, who sat next to Hopkins.

"There are still several repairs we need to make before we can send Danguard Ace into combat," said Hiroko.

"So where do we do that?" Leary threw up his hands. "We sure as hell can't do it at the Lair, and I doubt Autozone has the kind of spare parts we need."

"General Grimaldi came up with a contingency in the event anything ever happened to The Lair," Hiroko explained. "There is an alternate base that can service Danguard Ace."

"Where is it?" asked Hopkins.

"It's a little place in Nevada," Rieger said as he programmed the course into the auto pilot. "Actually, it's not so little."

"Something tells me you're not talking about Las Vegas."

"No, but it's close by."

Leary's eyes widened. "Whoa. You don't mean . . . _that place_."

Rieger turned to him. "Yes, Airman Leary, I do mean, '_that place.'"_

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	13. Chapter 13

Ebtehaj could feel the stares of the men around him. Part of him wanted to return to his quarters. Instead he stood on the tarmac, looking up at Mechakong One. He would not appear like a beaten dog to his subordinates.

_Even though that is how they see me._

He glanced at the men working on the Mechakong, the security troops around the runway, and the groundcrew servicing the aircraft. Many averted their eyes when Ebtehaj looked their way. Not quick enough, though. Even in the dark, he could read their expressions. They viewed him as a failure, or a coward, or a boy of privilege spared from harm by his powerful uncle.

Ebtehaj gritted his teeth. Hadn't he reduced the Great Satan's capital to smoldering ash? All true believers fantasized about that, but he actually did it! Shouldn't that count for something?

_Not when you lose a fight to Godzilla._

He tried to console himself by saying the fight was a draw. While the Mechakong had been damaged, Godzilla must have also been injured. No one had reported seeing him since the battle in Baltimore.

_We were both hurt and we went off to lick our wounds. Stalemate._

Then he would think of General Karimi's orders for him to withdraw.

Anger welled up inside him. He directed it south, toward the ruins of Washington, where his uncle sat in the White House_. _Did the man have any clue the respect he would lose from those who served under him?

_He should have let me stay and fight, regardless of the outcome._ At least there was honor in dying in battle.

There was no honor running away from one.

Ebtehaj continued to stare at Mechakong One. Too many thoughts and emotions consumed in his mind to let him fall asleep. Sparks flashed around the robot as welding crews on mobile platforms made repairs. Because of its design, the Mechakong's damaged limbs could be switched out with new ones. That helped speed up repairs, which was vital for this operation. Without the Mechakongs, victory would be impossible.

Several minutes passed before Ebtehaj's stomach growled. Too many hours had passed since he last ate. He turned away from Mechakong One and walked along the main ramp of the recently occupied Dover Air Force Base. He'd heard some of the pilots and base personnel comment how much they enjoyed sampling the food from the base's well-stocked mess hall. Ebtehaj figured he might as well partake in it.

_If I only knew where the hell it was._

He scowled at the thought of asking one of the base personnel. What would they think?

_He can't defeat Godzilla, he needs his uncle to save him, and now he can't find the mess hall on his own._

He'd rather wander the base until the sun came up before asking –

Klaxons blared. Ebtehaj froze, then swung his head in all directions. Had the Americans launched an attack?

"Attention! Attention!" an urgent voice boomed from the P/A system. "Cruise missiles inbound! Repeat, cruise missiles inbound! All air defense troops report to your battle stations! All other personnel get to your designated shelters!"

Ebtehaj took a step forward, then stopped. How many of those missiles were targeted for Mechakong One? How much more damage would they cause? Could the SAMs and anti-aircraft artillery knock them down?

Dozens of people ran past him. He looked around until he spotted a skinny officer wearing glasses.

"Major Saadavi!"

The commander of Mechakong One's technical support team skidded to a halt.

"Is Mechakong One flight ready?"

"What?" Saadavi gazed at him, bewildered.

"Can Mechakong One fly?" Ebtehaj snapped. "Can it shoot down those missiles?" Normally he would not speak to a superior officer in such a manner. But Saadavi was more a technician than a soldier. Plus the man feared angering General Karimi in any way, and treated his nephew with deference.

"Well, yes," replied Saadavi. "The new jetpack has been installed, but we have not tested it."

"I will test it. What about weapons?"

"All weapons are operational, but the main cockpit monitor has not been replaced, and there are still problems with the targeting system."

Ebtehaj scowled. This was not what he wanted to hear.

Without another word to Saadavi, he hurried back toward Mechakong One. He used the remote control hanging around his neck to activate the rear elevator. It was halfway down the robot's back when he heard a familiar voice say, "I expected to see you here."

Ebtehaj turned to find Lieutenant Daei standing before him, with Lieutenant Towfigh nearby.

"It is good to see you and me thinking alike," said Ebtehaj.

Daei nodded. "Given the Mechakong's armament, I think we'd make the most effective air defense troops."

"Then let's prove it."

The three boarded the elevator and rode it up to Mechakong One's access port. They hurried into the cockpit and took their seats.

"Towfigh, opening viewing window," Ebtehaj ordered.

"Viewing window open."

"Do we still have telescopic and night vision modes?"

Towfigh checked his console. "Affirmative."

The viewing window turned phosphorescent green, melting away the night. The telescope in the window scanned the sky before them.

Nearly a dozen missiles streaked toward Dover Air Force Base.

"Daei, ready all weapons."

Daei tapped the buttons on his console. "All weapons ready."

"Very well. We're moving out."

Mechakong One strode forward, knocking over the mobile platforms around it. Ebtehaj had the robot run across the runway, careful to avoid any parked aircraft. He eyed the approaching cruise missiles, estimating their distance from the base.

He continued for another mile, dodging buildings and anti-aircraft batteries, before coming to a halt.

"Daei, standby with gatling guns. I have control of lightning dischargers."

"Gatling guns, standing by. Lightning dischargers under your control."

Ebtehaj's finger hovered over the fire control. His heartbeat sped up as he watched the missiles draw closer . . . closer.

"Fire!"

Mechakong One's arms rose. Yellow tracers flew from the gatling guns in its knuckles. Daei swung the arms left and right.

One fireball flashed in the sky. Another formed seconds later. A third followed.

Ebtehaj rotated the Mechakong's head, lightning bolts shooting from its eyes. More missiles exploded in mid-air. Ebtehaj's eyes constantly swept over the viewing window. Had he missed any?

He turned the Mechakong's head in a complete 360. A contrail streaked toward the ground. A ball of fire erupted before Ebtehaj could react. Seconds later another missile struck the base.

He held his breath, waiting for another explosion.

None appeared.

Ebtehaj let out a sigh of relief and began to slump in his chair. He stopped himself. No doubt the Americans knew most of their missiles didn't hit the base, either from satellites or drones. Would they launch a second wave?

He stared out to the west, in the direction the missiles had come. They only could have been launched one way. By air. And he had a feeling what type of aircraft had been the launch vehicle.

"Standby for takeoff."

The jetpack rumbled to life. Mechakong One rose into the air.

"What are we doing, Sir?" asked Towfigh.

"We're going after the planes that launched those missiles."

"That will be difficult without our sensors."

Ebtehaj grunted. "It will be difficult even with our sensors, if the Americans are using the planes I suspect they are."

Mechakong One climbed to 40,000 feet. Not many lights were visible in the neighboring states of Maryland and Pennsylvania. The American President had ordered blackouts throughout the East Coast, similar to the ones in World War II. He'd also implemented dusk to dawn curfews so no one would be out driving with their headlights.

He leveled out the Mechakong and flew in the direction of the missiles. His sharp eyes scanned the green hued sky in front of him. Could he actually do it? Could he find them? Maybe they were already speeding back to their base.

_Or they could be launching another attack._

Why not? The Americans, in their arrogance, probably thought Ebtehaj's people had no means of detecting their advanced aircraft.

His anger fueled his determination.

Ebtehaj kept scanning the sky. He did not spot anything.

Towfigh did.

"More missiles!" He pointed to the viewing window.

Ebtehaj saw the contrails streaking across the sky below. He put Mechakong One into a dive. Lightning bolts and 30mm rounds tore through the air. Fireballs flickered and vanished.

In less than a minute, the sky was clear of cruise missiles.

Again Ebtehaj scanned around him. They had to be close by.

He nearly came out of his chair when he spotted it. It was just a dark sliver at first. The object became more defined as it turned, taking on a distinct batwing shape.

_Just as I thought._

An American B-2 stealth bomber. Two of them, in fact. Both planes turned west, most likely heading back to Whiteman Air Force Base in Missouri, home to all of America's B-2s.

"I'll take care of them." Ebtehaj pushed the controls forward. The engines roared louder. The B-2s grew larger by the second.

Mechakong One raised its hand and brought it down. It shattered the first B-2's right wing. The remains of the bomber tumbled out of the sky.

Ebtehaj aimed for the second B-2 and grinned. He'd just thought of a unique way to dispatch the plane.

"Hang on!"

He rolled Mechakong One as he approached the B-2. The robot blasted over the stealth bomber. Its exhaust washed over the aircraft's sleek, black skin.

Ebtehaj righted the Mechakong and swung it around. The B-2 spiraled toward the ground, gushing flames.

A brilliant ball of fire vaporized the bomber.

"Well done, Sir!" Daei declared.

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Ebtehaj started back to Dover. He radioed the control tower to report the downing of the B-2s.

"Congratulations, Mechakong One. So much for the Americans' vaunted stealth technology."

"Thank you. Do you have a damage report for the base?"

"One of the missiles hit Runway One-Nineteen. The engineers have begun repairs and should have it operational in a few hours. We also lost the radar unit for one of our Saqeb missile batteries. Casualties are three dead and two wounded. It could have been much worse had it not been for you."

Ebtehaj lifted his chin, pride surging through him. _That's true. _He had saved the base from destruction. All the men at Dover owed him their lives. No longer would they look at him as a failure or a coward. They would look upon him as their savior.

He gazed out at the Atlantic on his approach to Dover Air Force Base. Godzilla was out there somewhere, probably nursing his wounds. Ebtehaj could feel it. He would have a rematch.

Imagine what everyone would think of him when he killed that damn fire-breathing lizard.

**XXXXX**

"So that's Area Fifty-One," Airman Leary said as he stared at the main monitor. "I thought it'd look more impressive."

"What did you expect, Leary?" Rieger replied. "The Jedi Palace and X-Wing fighters flying around it."

"That would be pretty cool, Sir."

Rieger just nodded as he stared at the dry lake bed, the long runways and the bland structures around it. Area 51, home of the US military's most advanced projects, storehouse for recovered alien technology, and the alternate base for Danguard Ace.

He transmitted the robot's IFF code to Area 51 air traffic control. They sent him a specified flight path, and told him, "Do not deviate from flight path, or you will be fired upon."

Rieger had no intention of doing that, not even in Danguard Ace. Half the stuff in this robot came from Area 51. Who knew what they might launch if he disobeyed their orders?

He followed the flight path and landed in the middle of what looked like a soccer field. Suddenly the whole thing shuddered and descended beneath the surface. Area 51 control transmitted a computer generated image of Danguard Ace riding the huge elevator deeper into the ground. It soon came to a stop, a walkway connecting to its access port.

"Let's go." Rieger got out of his chair. He grimaced as his right arm throbbed. He looked down at his biceps. Hiroko had bandaged his gunshot wound during the flight to Nevada. He tried to put the pain out of his mind. He had more important things to worry about than a graze.

Rieger led the others to the access port and opened it. A dozen men in black tactical uniforms stood before them, aiming pistols, assault rifles and shotguns in their direction. None of the MAW-1 personnel even flinched. They, too, worked in a high security facility, and pretty much expected this reception.

"Hand over your weapons," one of the Security Forces men ordered.

They did so without complaint.

Another SF man approached Rieger, carrying what looked like an iPad. He held the device up to him.

"Extend right palm." The voice that came from the iPad reminded Rieger of the nasally, female computer voice from the original _Star Trek _series.

He placed his palm on the screen. The computer scanned it. Next came retinal and facial recognition scans.

"Submit to voice print analysis and security questioning," said the iPad. "State name, rank and service branch."

"Jim Rieger, Major, United States Air Force."

"Current assignment?"

"Pilot/Commander, Danguard Ace, First Monster Assault Wing."

"Place of birth?"

"Prescott, Arizona."

"At what age did you kill your first elk and where was the location?"

"I was twelve, and it was on a hunting trip at the Mogollon Rim."

Words in red block letters flashed on the screen. IDENTITY AUTHENTICATED. ACCESS GRANTED.

Martinez, Heath, Hiroko, Hopkins and his men all submitted to the procedure. Outsiders might think these measures overkill, but they needed to be, given what went on at Area 51.

_Maybe if we had these security procedures, we'd still be back at The Lair. _And Lord knew you had to jump through about twenty different hoops to set foot in that base.

All the MAW-1 members passed the security check. Then the SF man came to Earth's Cosmos. Rieger had no idea how they'd clear the two fairies to enter the base.

But the SF man held the iPad over the tiny women. An image of the pair that resembled Kirlian photography showed their auras, which glowed a brilliant white, purple and blue.

"Energy signature identical to those on record of entities known as Earth's Cosmos," the iPad declared before granting them access.

The Area 51 SF troops lowered their weapons, and allowed Rieger and his men to have back their guns. A stout man with steel gray hair dressed in an Airman Battle Uniform approached them. Rieger noticed the two stars on the man's collar.

"Ten hut!" He saluted, as did the other MAW-1 members, save Hiroko.

"General Balboni." He returned the salute. "Base commander. I wish you were here under better circumstances."

"So do I, Sir," said Rieger.

Balboni motioned them to follow him. They entered an underground corridor, the security men around them.

"Doctor Kawasumi, what's the status of Danguard Ace?"

"The particle beams and the maser are still offline and the right arm is inoperable. We are also having problems maintaining engine thrust."

Balboni nodded. "Whatever personnel and resources you need, tell me and I'll make sure you get them. Given our current situation, getting Danguard Ace combat ready is our top priority."

"Thank you, General."

"Our techs will begin diagnostics and repairs on Danguard Ace. Meanwhile, I want all of you to get some rest. I doubt you've had much of it since the Iranians invaded. We'll assign you temporary quarters."

"Thank you, Sir," they replied.

Balboni stared at Rieger's arm. "What happened to you, Major?"

"I was in a gunfight and got winged."

"I'll have one of my men take you to the infirmary."

"Thank you, Sir, but it's just a flesh wound."

"We'll let the docs determine that," said Balboni. "So report to the infirmary."

"Yes, Sir."

One of the SF men escorted Rieger to an elevator. When they reached the surface, they took a Humvee to the base infirmary. One of the doctors on duty examined his wound, and determined the bullet had just grazed his skin. He cleaned the wound, stitched it up and gave him some antibiotics. All the while, Rieger struggled to stay awake. He'd been on the go since early this morning. The adrenaline that had flooded his body since the battle at The Lair had worn off. His eyelids grew heavy. A couple of times, his head drooped, then snapped back up.

"There. All done," the doctor said, then looked at him with an appraising eye. "You look exhausted, Major."

"I feel exhausted."

"Well, things are pretty quiet around here. I'll assign you one of our rooms, say I'm keeping you here for observation. You can get some Z's there."

"Thanks, Doc," Rieger muttered.

The doctor led him to a room just down the hall. Rieger practically fell into bed. He fell asleep almost immediately.

Someone pounded on the door and called out his name. Rieger's eyes fluttered open. He checked his watch. Almost six in the morning. He'd been asleep for more than four hours.

Rieger rolled out of bed and shuffled to the door. When he opened it, Martinez, Heath and Hopkins stood in front of him. Hopkins carried the basket containing Earth's Cosmos, while Heath held a laptop.

"What is it?"

"The general in charge of the invasion gave a speech just now." Martinez nodded to Heath's computer. "We thought you'd better see it."

Rieger rubbed his face, then looked around. "Where's Hiroko?"

"With Danguard Ace," Hopkins answered. "Considering what this chump had to say, we're gonna need that robot in fighting shape ASAP."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_Now that FFNet has an image manager to let us have "covers" for our stories, I'd like to take advantage of it. The trouble is, I have no artistic talent whatsoever. If any readers of "Rise of the Mechakongs" are inspired to come up with a cover image for this story, please PM me and let me know. Thank you._


	14. Chapter 14

Rieger watched as Heath went to the FOX News Channel website and clicked on a replay of the Iranian general's speech. His eyes widened, anger blazing inside him, when he saw the stocky, bearded man sitting in the Oval Office!

_Son-of-a-bitch!_ He couldn't think of many other things more offensive on a national level than an enemy soldier occupying The President's very own office. The military part of Rieger, however, thought it an effective psychological move by the Iranians. What better way to convince America they were in control than by broadcasting from the seat of U.S. power?

"My name is Major General Arash Karimi, commander of the Pasdaran, what you call the Revolutionary Guards. As you can see, we control your White House, your symbol of power, just as we control your province of Delaware and parts of your great city of New York. This is only the beginning. Soon all your cities shall fall to us. For too long you have made demands on our country, demands to give up our most powerful weapons, to stop aiding our revolutionary brothers around the world in their fight against the Zionists and the renewed Crusades of the Western nations. In the past, you have destroyed our ships and murdered our sailors who were operating peacefully in our waters. You showed your barbarism by slaughtering 290 innocent men, women and children on Iran Air Flight 655 in 1988. This, we know, is all part of your plan to prevent the Persian Empire from returning to its proper place among the great nations of the world."

Karimi leaned closer to the camera. "As you can see, your plan has failed. Because of our Mechakongs, Persia has risen again. Washington, Manhattan and your military bases in Norfolk lay in ruin. Your most advanced warplanes, your vaunted Danguard Ace robot, even the so-called Guardian Monsters, were no match for the power of our Mechakongs."

Karimi folded his hands together on top of the desk, his dark eyes boring into the camera. "You have no hope of victory. Your only choice is surrender. America will become a province of the new Persian Empire. Its people will convert to the one true faith under penalty of death. Resist us, and the Mechakongs destroy one city after another until _every single_ city in your country is nothing but rubble, and _every single _American is a corpse."

Karimi's stare hardened. "Submit to Persian rule, or die. _Allahu Akbar._"

The screen went black.

Rieger stared at the computer in silence. He recalled the video footage of the destruction in Washington and Norfolk, and the devastation he'd seen for himself in Manhattan. He shivered at the thought of more cities suffering the same fate.

Fear gripped his soul. Would America surrender if the Mechakongs destroyed more cities? He'd like to think not. He wanted to think his country would go down swinging. But at what point would the odds seem insurmountable? At what point did the survivors give up hope and decide life mattered more than freedom?

_Life. _He scowled at the thought. There would be no life under those maniacs in Tehran. Americans would just exist, as subjects, their fates entirely in the hands of men like General Karimi.

"You cannot surrender."

Rieger and the others turned to the basket lying on the bed. Earth's Cosmos looked up at them.

"We can sense the evil coming from the man called Karimi. He seeks to spread his darkness not only over your country, but over the entire world. We cannot allow this to happen."

"Believe me," Rieger said. "I have no intention of bowing down to that piece of garbage. We're going to repair Danguard Ace, then go back out there and kick some ass."

Martinez nodded. "But it sure would be nice if we had the Guardian Monsters backing us up."

"You can communicate with Mothra," Heath noted. "What about the other Guardian Monsters?"

"We are able to sense them," Earth's Cosmos replied. "Both Godzilla and King Kong are recovering from wounds they suffered fighting the Mechakongs. They need time to heal. Kong especially. He was hurt the worst."

"Well, three-on-three." Heath gazed at the others. "At least we'll be even."

"I prefer numerical superiority to an even fight," Hopkins pointed out.

"Do not worry," said Earth's Cosmos. "Help is on the way."

Rieger eyed the two tiny women. He guessed that help was coming in the form of more Guardian Monsters.

"That help better get here soon."

**XXXXX**

Yousof Paridar could barely concentrate on his work. He constantly checked news websites on his smartphone for the latest on the invasion. The stories his uncle and cousins told came to mind. They had escaped Iran and come to America five years after the Ayatollah Khomeini came to power. Nausea burned his stomach as he imagined the horrors of life where any sort of complaint about the government, any deviation from their interpretation of Islam, was punished by jail, beatings or firing squads.

His parents did not want that life, which is why they immigrated to America. He certainly didn't want that life. Paridar considered himself a pretty good Muslim, and tried to follow the Five Pillars best he could. And unlike in Iran, no one would beat him for not worshipping the way the ayatollahs demanded.

_But I might get beaten for other reasons. _He had no doubt more than a few Americans would just see him as an Iranian, even though he'd never set foot in that country. They would probably love to get revenge for the destruction of Washington, New York and Norfolk by pounding him to a bloody pulp.

_As if that will stop the Iranian army. _He didn't pilot any of those giant robot gorillas. He just sat at a desk at the National Earthquake Information Center in Golden, Colorado.

But for people like that, it was easier to give in to hate than realize not every single Iranian in the world was like this General Karimi.

Paridar closed his eyes and prayed the American military, or perhaps Godzilla and those other monsters, could defeat Karimi and his Mechakongs.

Paridar turned back to his computer. One of the seismometers picked up a quake near the California/Oregon. A 3.5 on the Richter Scale. People there would notice a little shaking, but that was all. Then again, it was California. Those sorts of minor quakes happened there every day. They'd probably just ignore it.

Still, Paradir entered the event into the NEIC database, grateful to do something to get his mind off the invasion.

At least for a while.

He left to refill his coffee mug. When he came back, another quake had occurred. Paradir's brow furrowed as he noted the location.

"Hmm." He sat down and stared intently at the screen.

St. Helena Sound, South Carolina. While that might surprise ninety-nine percent of the American public, it didn't surprise Paridar too much. That state got roughly a dozen earthquakes a year, though they usually registered below Magnitude 3 and were hardly ever felt.

This one was Magnitude 4.5. It would be felt, but little if any damage would occur. It might have even made the news if it weren't for giant Iranian robots smashing US cities.

Paridar logged it into the database. He then went back to the Earthquake map.

That's when he did get surprised.

The quake had not ended. In fact, it was steadily moving north.

**XXXXX**

_A moving earthquake? _The thought hovered in the back of Rieger's mind as he sat in the cockpit of Danguard Ace with Martinez and Heath, checking their progress on the repairs. His knowledge of geology might be scant, but he knew enough to know the epicenter of an earthquake did not move. It could only be one of the reinforcements Earth's Cosmos told them about.

_God, I hope so._

He returned his focus to the repairs. The engines still experienced drop offs in thrust, but he didn't expect it would take long to correct the problem.

The right arm still needed much work. Right now all he could achieve was 20 percent range of motion. That wouldn't cut it if they had to go hand-to-hand with the Mechakongs.

Only one of the two particle beam emitters functioned. As for the maser, Hiroko told him they would need at least three weeks to fully restore it.

"I don't think we have three weeks," he had told her.

"I know," she snapped, a sign of the strain she was under. The strain they were all under.

Heath tested the engines again. This time they maintained thrust without any drop offs.

"Finally, something going our way," stated Martinez.

Rieger grunted. "Things will go our way when we boot the Iranians' asses back to the desert."

Martinez frowned and nodded.

"Major." Heath turned to him. "We've got an incoming transmission. It's Major Blake."

His eyes lit up in surprise. Relief swept through him knowing that at least MAW-1's intelligence officer made it out of The Lair alive.

Seconds later, Blake's face appeared on the main monitor.

"It's damn good to see you, Major," Rieger said.

"It's good to be seen anywhere. It wasn't easy getting out of The Lair."

The veins in Rieger's neck stuck out. He did not want to ask the question, but knew he had to. "How many did we lose?"

Blake closed her eyes, her face sagging. "Casualties are seventy-two dead and forty-one wounded."

"My God." Heath slumped in his chair, mouth agape.

Martinez lowered his head.

Rieger felt his legs tremble. He thought of Pete Summers, saw the head of base security, getting blown up in his mind's eye. How many other friends and colleagues were also among the dead?

Blake looked back up and bit her lip. An eternity passed before she spoke. "We also lost General Grimaldi."

Silence smothered the cockpit. Rieger's mind railed against the news. General Grimaldi dead? The words didn't seem real. He'd had many COs during his time in the Air Force. Some good, some bad, some complete SOBs. Grimaldi had been one of the good ones. The man treated everyone, officers, non-coms and enlisted ranks, with respect, listened to what they had to say, and trusted the abilities and judgment of those under him. Rieger had liked and respected Grimaldi, both as a leader and a man.

_He's dead. My God, he's dead._

"So is Colonel Phillips in charge now?" Martinez asked about MAW-1's XO.

Blake shook her head. "He was killed, too. Since I'm the surviving member of the command staff, that puts me in charge of MAW-1 for the time being."

"Are you back at The Lair now?" Rieger asked.

"Negative. We evacuated to Warren Air Force Base. Some Army Rangers from Fort Lewis in Washington State parachuted in a couple of hours ago. They're still sweeping The Lair, but from what they've told me, it looks like all the surviving Iranians are in the wind. They could be anywhere by now. One bit of good news the Rangers had was that General Grimaldi managed to implement the Cerberus Protocol. The Iranians didn't gain access to any of our databases."

_Good for you, General. _Grimaldi's sacrifice didn't give Rieger much solace. He'd rather have his CO alive.

"Thank God for small miracles," Martinez commented.

Blake nodded, then asked for a status report on Danguard Ace. Rieger briefed her on the repairs already made, and the many more that still needed to be done. He also informed her about what Earth's Cosmos had said about Godzilla and King Kong being on the mend, and that more Guardian Monsters were on the way to America.

"I hope so," said Blake. "We need all the help we can get. Meanwhile, get Danguard Ace repaired as quickly as possible.

"Yes, Ma'am," they all replied.

Blake's face vanished from the screen. Rieger, Martinez and Heath went back to their repairs.

Hours passed. They still had problems getting the right arm up to its full range of motion. The power couplings to the remaining particle beam emitter kept failing. Rieger fought to keep a lid on his mounting frustration. He feared they'd have to go back into the field nowhere close to a hundred percent.

_And looked how well that worked last time._

Meal breaks were short. Fifteen minutes. Enough time to wolf down a couple of sandwiches and drain a cup of coffee. It also allowed Rieger and his men to hear the latest war updates.

The Mechakongs had ravaged Philadelphia, Baltimore and Trenton, New Jersey. What warplanes the Air Force sent up against them had either been shot down or forced to retreat. A handful of maser-equipped tanks from right here at Area 51 had been flown to McGuire Air Force Base via C-5 Galaxy transport and attacked the Mechakong in Trenton. They reported inflicting minor damage before being wiped out.

The repairs on Danguard Ace continued the next day. So did the Mechakong attacks. Brooklyn, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and Richmond, Virginia. Another Area 51 product went into action, an XAL-52, a B-52 bomber modified to carry a chemical oxygen iodine laser to shoot down ballistic missiles. It was deployed against the Mechakong in Richmond. The laser caused some damage to the robot's torso. The robot, on the other hand, blasted the XAL-52 out of the sky with a lightning bolt.

Overseas, the Persian Gulf turned into a second front. The US and its allies in the Gulf engaged Iran in several air and sea battles. The _Abraham Lincoln _carrier battle group had launched several air and missile strikes against key military targets inside Iran. At least they scored some victories there.

Not that it would matter if they couldn't stop the Mechakongs.

It was just after 0100 when Rieger left the cockpit and found Hiroko supervising the installation of new maser emitters.

"C'mon. End of shift."

"No," she muttered. "Still working with maser. And the right arm. I still don't know why the actuators are having trouble receiving motion commands."

"Hiroko." He put a hand on her shoulder. "General Balboni wants everyone here to get at least four hours sleep."

"There's no time to sleep." Hiroko shook off his hand. "This robot needs to be repaired. We have to stop the Mechakongs."

Rieger stared, really stared, at his girlfriend. Hiroko's glasses couldn't hide the dark circles under her bloodshot eyes. Her normally smooth, jet black hair looked stringy. All in all, she appeared haggard.

_I probably look haggard, too. _So did everyone else working on Danguard Ace.

"Hiroko, you're exhausted. If you don't get some sleep, you're not going to be good to any of us, and you're going to make mistakes. We can't afford that now."

Hiroko stared at him, trying her best to look defiant.

Rieger returned the look. If he had to, he'd drag her out of here.

"All right," she muttered.

They walked to his Bachelor Officers' Quarters, stripped down to their undergarments, and got into bed. Rieger draped an arm around Hiroko. The feel of her body against his brought forth a wave of desire.

His exhaustion stamped it out and he soon fell asleep.

The alarm went off at 0530. Rieger and Hiroko barely talked. They took their turns in bathroom, did about five minutes worth of exercising just to get the blood pumping and got dressed. They stopped at the Base Exchange, or BX, for some energy bars and fruit juice before heading to Danguard Ace's hangar.

Rieger and Heath continued to test the right arm's range of motion, while Martinez monitored the progress on the right eye particle beam. Rieger grumbled at the inability of the robot to completely close its fist when the main monitor flickered to life. Major Blake's face appeared.

"How are the repairs coming?" she asked.

Rieger grimaced before answering. "The right arm's still giving us fits. Same with the particle beam in the right eye. And the maser . . ." He scowled and shook his head. "If you want us in the field ASAP, you better forget about it."

Blake lowered her gaze. She took a breath and continued. "Thank you, Major. Can you please summon Doctor Kawasumi and Earth's Cosmos to the cockpit? I have something I need to tell you all."

From Blake's expression and tone, Rieger figured whatever his new CO had to tell them wouldn't be good.

Hiroko entered the cockpit a few minutes later, looking irritated that her work on Danguard Ace had been interrupted. Senior Master Sergeant Hopkins soon followed, carrying the basket containing Earth's Cosmos.

"So what's going on, Major?" Rieger asked.

"I don't need to tell you the war is going badly for us. Nine US cities have suffered catastrophic damage from Mechakong attacks, and Delaware, Kennedy Airport and what's left of Washington are under Iranian occupation. The President doesn't want any more of our cities destroyed by the Mechakongs. The Air Force Chief of Staff informed me that given the slow progress of Danguard Ace's repairs -"

"We are going as fast as we can," Hiroko blurted. "Danguard Ace is a complicated piece of technology. The repairs can't be rushed if you want them done correctly."

Blake bristled at the interruption. Had it been anyone else in the cockpit, they would have gotten an ass-chewing for such an outburst. But Hiroko was a civilian, and not even an American one. There wasn't much Blake could do to discipline her.

She glared at Hiroko for a couple of seconds before saying pointedly, "As I was saying, in light of the attacks on our cities, the slow progress of Danguard Ace's repairs, and the failure of Area Fifty-One's advanced weapons systems, The President feels he has no choice but to launch a nuclear strike against the Mechakongs."

The words froze every muscle in Rieger's body.

"Good God." Heath stared at the monitor, his mouth hanging open.

"Oh no!" Earth's Cosmos cried out. "You cannot do that!"

"How can you use nuclear weapons on your own soil?" Hiroko's voice went up several octaves. "That's madness!"

"The President feels it's either that, or we allow the Mechakongs to continue destroying one city after another."

"But you'll be killing your own people! Not just in whatever cities the Mechakongs attack, but think of the high cancer rates and birth defects that will last for decades because of the fallout. And the environmental impact. Forests, rivers. Ecosystems will be poisoned. You'll be doing worse damage to your country than the Iranians. There must be a better way."

Rieger stared at Hiroko, sympathy welling up for her. Being Japanese, she was very sensitive when it came to the use of nuclear weapons, for obvious reasons.

Hell, even he felt there had to be a better way than creating mushroom clouds over American cities.

"I'm sorry. The Chief of Staff told me The President did not see any other options. Better to have a small portion of the country destroyed than the entire United States."

"Depending on the prevailing winds and how far down river the fallout is carried," Hiroko said, "it may not be a small portion of America that is destroyed."

Blake frowned. "As I said, the President felt he had no other option."

"There is another option," Earth's Cosmos told her. "The Guardian Monsters. You must trust in them."

"They were mentioned to The President. Unfortunately, they didn't fare so well in their first engagements with the Mechakongs. Mothra was killed, and King Kong and Godzilla were injured."

"Yes, but Godzilla and King Kong are almost healed, and other Guardian Monsters are on the way. You must allow them to battle the Mechakongs again."

"Unfortunately that's not my call," Blake said. "It's the President's."

"You must try," begged Earth's Cosmos.

Blake sighed. "Presidents rarely, if ever, listen to advice from majors. The best I can do is relay your request to the Air Force Chief of Staff, and he can pass it on to The President."

"I think I have a better idea, Major." Rieger held up his hand.

"I'm all ears."

"Instead of a request, how about we come up with an actual plan to take to the Chief of Staff?"

"I take it you have one in mind."

"I might." Rieger leaned forward in his chair. "You're our S-2." He used the term for intelligence officer. "Or you were before General Grimaldi died. I'm betting you already have this General Karimi's life story in front of you."

"I had my people digging into his background as soon as he introduced himself on TV." She looked at the laptop on her desk and tapped a few keys. "Major General Arash Karimi, born in Fasa, Fars Province, in 1962. Took part in the takeover of the US Embassy in Tehran in 1979. Numerous commendations in the Iran-Iraq War. He's provided training and support, both technical and financial, to more than a dozen terrorist organizations. He's been commander-in-chief of the Pasdaran for the past six years. In that time, their power and influence has grown. He's increased the number of cabinet ministers, mayors, provincial governors and senior government officials who once served with the Pasdaran. They have representatives or sympathizers in control of many of the nation's media outlets. The profit from their business ventures, both legal and illegal, has increased every year under Karimi's leadership. Last year, the Pasdaran netted around nineteen billion dollars."

Rieger's eyes bulged when he heard the amount.

"Nineteen billion?" Martinez sounded stunned. "How does a military outfit like that make so much money?"

"The Pasdaran's not a specialized branch of the military, like our Army Rangers or Navy SEALs. Over the years it's grown into an entity unto itself. More than a few of my colleagues believe the Pasdaran is the real power in Iran."

Blake tapped some more keys on her laptop. "Another thing about Karimi. The man is obsessed with the history of the Persian Empire. His headquarters and homes are decorated with all sorts of relics from that time. Shields, swords, spears, coins, artwork. He reportedly used some of his agents to kill a Jordanian who owned a dagger alleged to have belonged to the Emperor Cyrus the Great and bring it back to him. Karimi even named his carriers after The emperors Cyrus the Great and Xerxes."

"Xerxes?" Heath said. "That was the Persian king from the _300 _movie."

"That's correct. Xerxes ruled Persia during the Battle of Thermopylae, what most people know as the stand of the three hundred Spartans."

"That explains a lot about Karimi's speech," Rieger pointed out. "He never referred to his country as Iran. It was always Persia or the Persian Empire. I'm starting to think he's not simply the dutiful soldier carrying out orders from Tehran. I think this guy really sees himself as the Emperor of a new Persian Empire."

"Why not?" Hopkins chimed in. "With those Mechakongs, who back in Iran is going to tell him otherwise?"

"So we all agree that this General Karimi is delusional." Hiroki looked around at them all. "That doesn't help us in defeating the Mechakongs."

"Actually, it just might." Rieger turned back to Blake. "Major, what's the strength of the Iranian forces in Washington?"

"Our latest estimates show at least one infantry division and two armored brigades in and around DC. They're supported by between forty and fifty combat aircraft at Andrews Air Force base and eight ships in the Potomac."

"That's a lot of combat power to protect a pile of rubble," Hopkins noted.

"The Iranians may have laid waste to Washington, but they left the White House intact. Karimi's using it as his headquarters. Hell, if the guy thinks he's the reincarnation of King Xerxes, he might look at Washington as his provincial capital. He's going to want a lot of protection. And that's where my plan comes in."

"Don't keep us in suspense, Major," Blake urged.

"Back in Xerxes' time, when your capital was threatened, what did you do? You rushed everything you could there to defend it. If we threaten Karimi's capital, he's going to do the same."

Rieger looked to Earth's Cosmos. "Is it possible for you to direct the other Guardian Monsters to Washington?"

"Of course." The tiny women's faces lit up. "Ah, I see. With all the Guardian Monsters in Washington, General Karimi will have no choice but to call for his Mechakongs."

Rieger nodded. "Godzilla alone could take out all of Karimi's conventional forces there. You send him and the other Guardian Monsters there, along with Danguard Ace, he'll have no choice but to bring in all three Mechakongs."

"We are still a long way from finishing repairs on Danguard Ace," Hiroko informed him.

"Then just do what you can. In fact, just concentrate on getting the right arm back to its full range of motion. We've got the rail guns, the gatlings and one particle beam working. We're good with weapons. But we'll need that arm working right for better flight stabilization and if we get into CQB." He used the acronym for Close Quarters Battle.

Hiroko's face stiffened as she stared at him. He sensed her perfectionist nature rebelling against the order.

Thankfully, she said nothing.

"How about it, Major?" Rieger asked Blake.

She kept silent for several seconds, a thoughtful look on her face. "I'll do my best to convince the Chief of Staff. But after your first go-around with the Mechakongs, he's going to ask what if you fail to destroy them a second time?"

"Then The President can launch the nukes. At least all the Mechakongs will be in one place. We'll only lose one city, not three."

Blake nodded. "All right. I'll call the Chief of Staff right away. Continue with repairs, and pray the Chief and The President like your plan. Blake out."

Rieger and the others carried out her orders. He found it hard to concentrate on testing Danguard Ace's right arm. Would the Air Force Chief of Staff and President buy his plan? Would they think he was talking out of his ass?

_They can't think that._ They would have to try every possible course of action against the Mechakongs before dropping The Bomb, especially on American soil.

God, how he hoped that was the case.

A nerve-wracking hour-and-a-half passed before Major Blake appeared on the screen. Rieger, Martinez and Heath all shot out of their seats, anxiousness radiating from their bodies.

"Well?" Rieger swallowed, his stomach flipping over.

"The President gave the go-ahead to your plan."

Rieger let out a relived breath. So did Martinez and Heath.

Blake continued. "Have Earth's Cosmos direct the Guardian Monsters to Washington. You have one hour to finish whatever repairs you can to Danguard Ace before heading to Washington. We'll also have four F-35s in orbit over the Virginia/West Virginia border. Each one will carry two B61 nuclear bombs with a two hundred kiloton yield. Should you and the Guardian Monsters fail to destroy the Mechakongs, the planes will be sent in to drop their payloads."

"Understood," Rieger replied.

Blake leaned closer to the camera. "Good luck, to all of you."

The trio thanked Blake before she signed off.

Martinez turned to face Rieger. "Well, if General Karimi sees himself as a modern day Xerxes, I guess that makes us the three hundred Spartans."

"Mm." Rieger nodded. "I just hope we have better luck than they did."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	15. Chapter 15

The enormous egg had been in the Appalachian Mountains for months. The thick woods and rugged terrain concealed it from human eyes. Some precognitive sense had led its mother to lay the egg here. One day, she felt, her offspring would be needed in this part of the world.

Singing drifted through the forest. The smooth and melodic feminine voices seemed to wrap around the egg like a soft blanket.

Cracks appeared in the shell, growing by the second. Soon the egg split open, revealing a golden brown caterpillar. It raised its head to the sky and let out a sound somewhere between a shriek and a moan.

Mothra was reborn.

**XXXXX**

Every so often, Rieger looked up from his console, listening to the singing of Earth's Cosmos. Their angelic voices hovered throughout Area 51. He had no idea what the little fairies sang. Whatever it was it wasn't in English. Not that it mattered. It sounded beautiful.

It astounded him that their singing could be heard by monsters thousands of miles away.

An alarm buzzed in the cockpit. Rieger tensed.

Their hour was up.

"That's our cue." Rieger radioed the support personnel to clear the area. He moved Danguard Ace's right arm and made a fist, nodding when he saw the readout.

_That's as good as it's going to get._

Hiroko's face appeared on the monitor. "We have done all we can to repair Danguard Ace." She almost sounded apologetic.

"Hiroko, you and your people did great. We've got ninety-five percent range of motion in the right arm. We can work with that."

She responded with a barely perceptible nod. "There's something else I have to tell you. I asked Major Blake to send me all the information she had on the Mechakongs. Given the damage they suffered in their battles with Danguard Ace and the Guardian Monsters, the time it took the Iranians to repair them and send them back into the field seemed much too short. I examined footage of the Mechakong that attacked Washington DC. Its right leg was seriously damaged by Godzilla. But when I viewed the footage of that same Mechakong's attack on Baltimore, its leg was in pristine condition. They couldn't have repaired all that damage. There is only one possible explanation."

"What is it?" asked Rieger.

"The Mechakongs are built in such a way the Iranians can simply switch out damaged limbs with entirely new ones."

"That's a pretty smart thing to do," noted Sergeant Heath. "Especially when you're thousands of miles away from your own country."

"Perhaps," said Hiroko. "But there are also disadvantages to that method. Circuitry connections might be unreliable. The joints will not be as well protected as other areas of the Mechakongs. That could be your key to defeating them."

Rieger nodded, following Hiroko's line of thought. "Basically do to them what Graham Chapman did to the Black Knight in _Monty Python and the Holy Grail. _Take out the arms and legs, and the other guy won't be able to put up a fight."

Hiroko flashed a brief smile. Her lips tightened. She turned away.

Rieger cocked his head to the side. "Something wrong?"

"No, it's just . . ." Hiroko took a deep breath. "You might be able to use the maser."

"What?" Heath blurted. "That's great."

"Maybe not. We were not able to replace all of the beam emitters. But there are enough to allow for at least one discharge. There are, however, risks."

She paused for a moment. "The maser will not be able to transmit a burst at full power. The output generated by the resonators will only be at thirty-five percent full power. Anything more than that, the entire system will overload and result in a catastrophic explosion. Also, do not fire the maser longer than ten seconds. Without all the beam emitters in place, the non-discharged energy in the maser will build up until it explodes."

"So basically," said Rieger, "we have to make our shot quick and make it count."

"Correct."

"Well, at least that's one more weapon we can use. We can only use it once, but once is better than none." He smiled at her. "Thanks, Hiroko. We owe you big time."

She managed a smile. Her eyes settled on Rieger. He noticed her swallow. "Be safe, all of you."

"We will." Rieger held her gaze. He didn't want the monitor to shut off. He wanted to look at Hiroko as long as possible, take in every detail of her beautiful face. His chest tightened.

What if this was the last time he'd ever see Hiroko?

_No. I am coming back to her._

He mouthed, "I love you." She gave him a shaky smile. Her eyes glistened.

The monitor went black.

Rieger drew a long breath and looked around at Martinez and Heath. "Prepare for takeoff."

They were halfway through their pre-flight checklist when the door to the cockpit opened. Hopkins came in, carrying Earth's Cosmos' basket. The two tiny women continued singing. Airman Leary and three other Security Forces troopers also entered the cockpit.

"Are you sure it's a good idea bringing them along, Master Sergeant?" Martinez nodded to the basket.

"They said they wanted to come, said their connection with the Guardian Monsters would be stronger the closer they were to them. I figured, who am I to argue with living embodiments of Earth's spirit?"

"What about the small army?" Rieger indicated the SF men.

"Just being safe. You never know if we have to bail out, or if the Iranians board Danguard Ace again. I promised the Delivery Man I'd protect Earth's Cosmos, and I intend to make good on that promise."

Rieger nodded. "Then find a seat and strap in."

Hopkins and his men settled into the JAFO seats.

Once the pre-flight checklist was finished and Area 51 gave them clearance to takeoff, Rieger activated the engines. He let out a relieved breath when he heard their steady roar, and saw the power levels looking normal.

"All right, people. Let's go save the world."

**XXXXX**

General Karimi's command staff rose as he strode into the White House Situation Room. He waved them to be seated.

"Still no word from President Calhoun?" he asked his Chief of Staff, Colonel Borhani.

"No, General. All intelligence reports show the Americans moving many of their forces east. They do not appear ready to surrender any time soon."

Karimi emitted a snorting laugh. "Very well. I have no problem destroying more of their cities." He looked to a soldier who sat in the corner of the room with a computer.

"Sergeant. Display a map of the Eastern Seaboard."

"Yes, Sir." The sergeant tapped a few keys. An image of the East Coast appeared on the main monitor.

Karimi leaned back, rubbing his chin with his thumb and index finger, studying the map. "General Panjali," he said to his air operations chief. "Order the Mechakongs to attack Boston, Newark, New Jersey and Raleigh, North Carolina."

"Yes, General." Panjali reached for the phone.

"General Karimi, if I may?" Garousi raised a hand.

He nodded for his special operations chief to continue.

"The Americans expect us to attack their major cities. But consider how many of them live in small towns and villages. They live there because they believe they are free from the violence that plagues their larger cities. They see us attack Washington, New York and Philadelphia, and think we will ignore their town because it is too small. As a result, they do not fear us."

Garousi stood and walked over to the monitor. "We must attack some of the smaller American towns. Towns with populations under 15,000. When we destroy them, all Americans will realize no place in this country is safe. Then they will fear us, and that fear will ultimately lead to their surrender."

A smile spread over Karimi's face. "An excellent idea, Garousi. Do you have any particular targets in mind?"

"Yes." He pointed at the map. "Dennis Township, New Jersey, Putnam, Connecticut, and Lake Barcroft, Virginia. All very small and relatively quiet communities."

Karimi turned to his air operations chief. "Panjali. I am revising my orders. The Mechakongs will target those towns identified by General Garousi. Have him provide you with the coordinates and any other pertinent information."

"Yes, General."

The staff meeting ended fifteen minutes later. Karimi returned to the Oval Office, looking over the latest reports on the disposition of his forces in the US. That's when he received word all three Mechakongs had launched.

He chuckled, imagining the destruction of the small towns. Americans in other small towns would see it on their televisions. They would live in constant fear of a Mechakong wiping out their little communities, knowing there was nothing their military could do to save them.

They would readily bow down to him.

Karimi settled deeper into his leather chair. _So this is how it feels to rule. _Iran was his. The constitution might state The Supreme Leader, The President and the Islamic Consultative Assembly ran the country, but for the last few years their power was in name only. The influence of the Pasdaran – _his _Pasdaran – had surpassed them.

Now America would be part of his empire.

Karimi closed his eyes. He would soon conquer the rest of the Middle East. Then Europe, Asia . . . the entire world!

_All mine._

When that happened, the rank of general would no longer suit him. He would have a new title.

Emperor Karimi the First.

The phone interrupted his dreams of power.

He snatched the receiver. "General Karimi."

"Sir," said Colonel Borhani. "We have picked up two large sonar contacts in the Potomac River."

**XXXXX**

Lieutenant Abbas Rowshan no longer needed sonar to track the targets. He could see the two large wakes out the cockpit window of his SH-3 Sea King helicopter. His hand tightened around the cyclic stick as the wakes drew closer to the shores of Fort McNair.

"Yushij," he called to the chopper's weapons officer. "Do you have a solution on the targets?"

"I'm getting it . . . now! Targets acquired. Torpedoes away."

Rowshan felt the helicopter rise as the two torpedoes mounted under the fuselage fell away. They splashed into the Potomac. He held his breath as he eyed the smaller wakes closing with the larger ones.

Two water spouts shot up from the river.

"Direct hit!" cheered his co-pilot, Ensign Kalbasi. "We got them!"

"No, we didn't." Rowshan shook his head. Sweat formed on his brow.

The large wakes continued to plow through the water.

A stubby, Russian-built Poti-class corvette made a beeline toward the targets. It was joined by a Saam-class frigate. Rowshan fixed his gaze on the two little ships. He hoped they would have better luck than he and his crew did.

Flames flashed from the Poti's bow. It had to be the RBU 6000 anti-submarine rocket launchers. Over a dozen geysers sprouted around the wakes as the projectiles exploded.

The water burst below them. Kalbasi gasped as Rowshan banked the chopper left. Two dark shapes rose high above the ships. Waves swept over the Potomac. The Poti and Saam slewed from side-to-side.

Rowshan had to concentrate to keep from trembling as he stared at the two behemoths. His heart tried to smash through his chest. He prayed neither monster noticed him.

Godzilla let out a piercing roar. King Kong pounded his chest.

"Allah protect us," Kalbasi muttered.

Kong scooped up the Poti with one hand. He crushed it with ease. Debris spilled from his palm and splashed into the Potomac.

Streaks of flame flew from the Saam. Its four Noor anti-ship missiles hit Godzilla. Fireballs erupted from its thick, green hide.

Godzilla roared. Rowshan swore it was a roar of fury.

The Saam opened up with its guns. Tracers raked Godzilla's body. The monster ignored the gunfire and brought down a massive hand. The old frigate exploded in a gusher of water and debris.

Now the modified container ships anchored near the fort opened fire. Tracers and rockets flashed through the air, striking Godzilla and Kong. Both monsters roared and charged through the water. A stream of atomic fire shot out of Godzilla's mouth. Rowshan jerked when the massive explosion tore apart one of the container ships.

King Kong slammed his fists down on the other container ship. The deck caved in. Another blow shattered the bow. Kong swung his right arm. The superstructure shattered into hundreds of metallic splinters.

The monsters stomped out of the water and marched across the grounds of Fort McNair.

Rowshan pushed the cyclic stick forward.

"Sir, what are you doing?" Kalbasi turned to him with a shocked expression.

"We may have used up all our weapons, but we can still observe Godzilla and King Kong and report their movements to headquarters."

Rowshan got on the radio. "Comet Two-Zero to Anshan."

"This is Anshan," replied the air controller at occupied Andrews Air Force Base. "Go, Comet."

"Godzilla and King Kong have come ashore. They are moving north through Fort McNair."

Rowshan continued to relay the monsters' progress to his superiors. A minute later, two sleek J-10 jet fighters, along with two twin-tailed Saeqeh-80s, rocketed toward Godzilla and Kong. Missiles, rockets and tracers raced across the sky. Bombs fell from the jets' bellies. Fireballs erupted on and around both monsters. They just roared in anger.

The jets swung around for another attack. Rowshan tensed when Godzilla unleashed a burst of atomic fire. The jets exploded. Hundreds of pieces of flaming debris spiraled toward the ground.

_Allah be merciful, can anything stop these monsters?_

Rowshan wanted to fly as far away from Washington as possible. Fear kept him from doing that. Fear of facing a firing squad for such cowardice. His only choice was to carry out his duty, even if it killed him.

T-72 tanks and Boragh APCs formed up on M Street. Flames flickered from their barrels. Shells burst against the monsters' hides. Rowshan shivered. Neither creature seemed to notice.

Kong kicked at the armored column. Half-a-dozen vehicles spun through the air. Blue flame gushed from Godzilla's mouth. Tanks and APCs turned to puddles of molten slag.

"Move away, Sir!" cried out Kalbasi. "You're too close!"

"Shut up! Do your duty and -"

Rowshan froze when he noticed Godzilla staring straight at him.

_Allah have mercy._

Bright blue light filled Rowshan's vision. The helicopter exploded.

**XXXXX**

_I thought those monsters were dead._

Lieutenant Ebrahim Elmkhah scowled as he peered through his binoculars. The commander of his self-propelled artillery battery had crowed about how the Mechakongs easily dispatched the so-called Guardian Monsters.

Yet two of them stood four kilometers from his position on the George Washington Memorial Parkway. Fire and smoke billowed around them. His teeth ground together, thinking of all the dead Iranian soldiers and charred vehicles left in the monsters' wake.

_The Mechakongs were supposed to stop them. Why didn't they? _He cursed the giant robots and their pilots, then prayed they would arrive soon. He'd seen enough footage of Godzilla and other kaiju to know conventional weapons, like his Raad-2 self-propelled howitzer, usually had little to no effect on them.

If the Mechakongs didn't show up soon, Godzilla and King Kong would surely decimate the Iranian forces in Washington.

"Rhino One to all guns," the voice of Elmkhah's commanding officer, Major Mirzaei, came over the radio. "Open fire!"

Elmkhah shouted into the Raad-2's turret. "Gunner! Fire!"

"Yes, Sir!" shouted the gunner, Private Takhti. "Fire!"

A deafening _crump _split the air. The Raad-2 shook. All around Elmkhah, the battery's other self-propelled guns thundered. He continued to stand through the cupola, watching the monsters through his binoculars. Orange and black plumes erupted around Godzilla and King Kong. One shell burst against the giant ape's shoulder. Two others struck Godzilla.

It didn't faze them at all.

The Raad-2s kept firing. Explosions flashed across the huge bodies of Godzilla and King Kong. The burning stench of cordite hung in the air.

Elmkhah banged his fist against the cupola. He bit down against the sharp pain in his wrist as he watched the two monsters advance toward the National Mall. They weren't far from the White House, from General Karimi's headquarters. Allah help them if the monsters killed their leader.

"Concentrate fire on their heads," ordered Major Mirzaei.

The guns banged away. Small fireballs erupted on the monsters' heads and shoulders. King Kong actually twisted away and covered his face. Hope grew within Elmkhah. Perhaps they did have a chance at stopping them.

The Raad-2 shuddered. Elmkhah thought it was from the gun firing. His brow furrowed when the tremors didn't stop. If anything, they grew more intense.

A rumble enveloped smoky air around him. He gripped the cupola with both hands. Fear gripped him. _An earthquake?_ But Washington didn't have earthquakes.

He caught movement out the corner of his eye. A couple of other Raad-2 commanders nearby pointed to something behind their vehicles.

Elmkhah turned. He froze in terror.

An enormous wave of dirt and debris rolled past the rubble that had been The Pentagon. Clumps of trees fell to the side as it tore through Columbia Island.

The ground exploded.

Clumps of dirt rained down on the battery. Elmkhah dropped inside the turret and shut the hatch.

"What's going on?" Private Takhti's voice cracked.

"I don't know!"

Dirt thumped against the top of the turret. Elmkhah waited for it to end before easing the hatch open. Holding his breath, he raised himself through the cupola.

His eyes bulged. Terror paralyzed him.

The monster shook its massive, brown body. Dirt cascaded from the spiked, armored shell that covered its back. Curved horns sprouted from its skull, with a single horn protruding from the tip of its long snout. It let out a high-pitched whine.

Elmkhah whimpered as Anguirus stomped forward.

_Traverse gun! One hundred-eighty degrees!_

He wanted to say the words. Fear froze his vocal cords.

Anguirus roared again. His left front leg rose. A shadow fell over Elmkhah's Raad-2.

He screamed as the gigantic foot came down on him.

**XXXXX**

Captain Seyyad Shirvand felt no fear as his Hind helicopter flew toward the giant caterpillar. He had no reason to fear. Allah watched over him. It was his desire that these filthy beasts who protected the infidels be destroyed.

Shirvand would be the instrument of Allah's will.

The whale-like Hind lumbered over the Lee Highway outside Washington. Mothra crept along the roadway. Shirvand flexed his hand on the cyclic stick. His index finger hovered over the trigger. He glanced out the bubble canopy. The three other Hinds in his flight trailed behind him.

"Basilisk Flight," he radioed them. "Commence attack run."

Grinning wide, Shirvand settled the target scope on Mothra. He squeezed the trigger.

The chin-mounted gatling gun made a deep, ripping sound. Tracers streaked toward Mothra. Sparks jumped off its hide.

Shirvand's thumb worked the firing buttons for the multiple wing-mounted pylons. AT-2 anti-tank missiles and 57mm rockets shot from their launchers. Contrails flashed over the highway. Fireballs burst along Mothra's body. The beast lifted its head and screeched.

Shirvand banked away. The other Hinds dove on Mothra. More explosions went up around it. It let out more screeches, but kept crawling toward Washington.

"Hit it again!" Shirvand shouted in his radio. "Kill the damn thing!"

He swung his Hind around and launched another barrage. More fire and smoke erupted from Mothra. It did not slow down.

"Die, damn you!" Shirvand yelled as he flew over the caterpillar.

The other Hinds attacked Mothra. It twisted its body around. A stream of white silk flew out of Mothra's mouth. It spattered against the first Hind. A cotton-like shell formed over the helicopter. Its rotors stopped spinning. The Hind plummeted to earth. It smashed into the ground and exploded.

The other two Hinds turned away. Mothra sprayed them with silk. It coated the trailing Hind's tail rotor. The helicopter spun out of control and slammed into a building near the highway. A fireball rose from the structure.

The remaining Hind kept going north. It did not turn around.

"Coward! Come back and fight!"

The pilot ignored Shirvand's order.

"Damn you!" He fought the temptation to go after the bastard and shoot him down. Killing Mothra took priority. He'd hunt down the coward and cut out his entrails later.

Shirvand lined up for another attack. The gatling gun growled. Rockets shrieked out of their launchers. Sparks and fountains of flame went up along Mothra's body. It turned its head toward him. Shirvand threw the Hind into a sharp left turn.

The helicopter bucked. Silk covered the canopy. The rotors grinded and coughed, then went silent. Shirvand roared as he tried to restart the engine.

The Hind fell. Shirvand pounded the instrument panel, screaming in rage.

Those screams ended when the chopper crashed and blew up.

**XXXXX**

"Three large aerial contacts," Heath announced. "All inbound to Washington."

Rieger checked the part of the monitor showing the readout from the AESA radar. Two of the contacts came from the north, the other from the southwest. From their size and electronic emissions, they could only be one thing.

Mechakongs.

He smirked, thinking of General Karimi. _Did I read this guy right or what?_

Rieger scolded himself. _Pat yourself on the back after we've kicked his ass._

He began Danguard Ace's decent into Washington. Other screens on the monitor showed feeds from satellites and UAVs – Unmanned Aerial Vehicles – over the nation's capital. Godzilla and King Kong were already at the National Mall. Caterpillar Mothra would be there soon, along with Anguirus, who had been the cause of the moving earthquake.

_Five-on-three. I like those odds._

Again, he tried not to be overconfident. Those Mechakongs were tough bastards. They would not go down easy.

"More aerial contacts!" Heath called out. "Four MiG-29s, bearing one-zero-four. Twenty miles and closing."

Rieger looked to Martinez. "Bob, you got this?"

"Yes I do."

Rieger eyed the AESA screen. The space between Danguard Ace and the MiGs closed rapidly.

"Missile launch!" Heath warned. "Eight missiles, possible AA-11 Archers."

"Switching gatlings to automatic targeting," said Martinez.

The forward-mounted camera picked up the contrails from the infrared guided missiles streaking toward Danguard Ace. A deep _grrrrr_ sounded through the cockpit. Tracers swept across the sky. The missiles vanished in puffs of orange and black.

"All missiles downed," Martinez noted. "Targeting MiGs with particle beam."

"I guess now we see if they fixed it right."

More missiles came from the MiG-29s. The gatling guns took them out. The monitor showed the feed from Martinez's helmet-mounted display. The targeting box settled on the lead MiG-29. A blue flash lit up the sky before them. The MiG glowed white hot, then exploded. The surviving MiGs banked away from Danguard Ace. Martinez tracked them. One by one, the particle beam blasted them out of the sky.

Rieger gently pushed the controls forward. The numbers in the altimeter wound down. Washington took on a more distinct form.

Or rather, what was left of Washington.

A shiver went up Rieger's spine. Entire sections of the city were charred. He couldn't find the distinctive landmarks of the Washington Monument or the US Capitol.

Fury boiled within him. He tried to push it down. His instructors had always told him not to fight angry. That's when you made mistakes and got yourself and others killed.

Seeing the capital of the country he took an oath to defend reduced to blackened rubble, how could he not be pissed off?

He checked the AESA display. Judging by their trajectory, the Mechakongs would be landing around the National Mall, right near the White House.

_Right where they can protect Karimi's worthless ass._

He noticed Godzilla and King Kong looking up at him as he landed Danguard Ace by the Reflecting Pool. Before him lay the ruins of the National World War II Memorial and the Washington Monument.

Rieger really, really wanted to stomp some Iranian ass.

Mothra and Anguirus splashed across the Potomac and came ashore near Independence Avenue.

By now the exterior cameras picked up the Mechakongs. All three landed in front of the expanse of lush, green lawn known as The Ellipse, just south of the White House.

Danguard Ace strode toward them, stopping on the grounds of the demolished Washington Monument. To his right stood Godzilla and King Kong. The mutant dinosaur roared, while the giant ape beat his chest.

To his left were Mothra and Anguirus. The caterpillar screeched, and the armored monster let out a prolonged wail.

Rieger put Danguard Ace into a fighting stance, eyeing the three Mechakongs.

"You sons-of-bitches are about to have a very bad day."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	16. Chapter 16

King Kong roared and leapt at the nearest Mechakong. The robot reached out and grabbed the ape by the armpits. The Mechakong twisted around and slammed King Kong into the ground. A quake surged beneath Danguard Ace and the other monsters.

Godzilla breathed atomic fire. The second Mechakong dove out of the way. Danguard Ace tracked the robot with its rail guns and fired. The rounds slammed into the Mechakong's torso. It staggered backwards.

The third Mechakong fired its shoulder-mounted 120mm cannons. Explosions bracketed Mothra. Anguirus wailed and charged. It smashed into the Mechakong, knocking it down.

Rieger pushed the controls forward. His eyes darted between the Mechakong they just shot and the one on top of King Kong. Its metal fists rose and fell, pounding the giant ape.

Danguard Ace lowered its shoulder. It rammed into the Mechakong beating on King Kong. The clang of metal on metal drilled into Rieger's ears. Tremors rocked Danguard Ace. Hopkins held the basket with Earth's Cosmos against his chest.

The Mechakong rolled across The Ellipse. Rieger ignored the ringing in his skull and advanced on the downed robot.

Lightning bolts struck Danguard Ace's chest. The robot shook. Rieger gripped the controls, fighting to keep Danguard Ace on its feet.

Another Mechakong stomped toward them. Its chest plate slid away, revealing missile tubes. Two Noor missiles spat out of them. Danguard Ace's gatling guns growled. Both missiles exploded in mid-air.

Godzilla whipped his tail. It struck the Mechakong in the chest. The robot stumbled back. Godzilla rushed forward and tackled it. Both machine and monster tumbled to the ground. Another tremor shook the area.

"Bob, time to put Hiroko's theory to the test," Rieger said.

Martinez nodded. "I hear you."

The Mechakong they tackled pushed itself up. Rieger watched the crosshairs settle on the robot gorilla's left arm socket. The eye-mounted particle beam fired. The beam struck the biceps. Sparks exploded from the golden metal skin.

"Dammit," Martinez hissed. He slewed the crosshairs over.

Lightning flew from the Mechakong's eyes. It hit Danguard Ace in the gut. A thunderclap shook the air. The lights and screen flickered on and off. Rieger caught a whiff of ozone. He righted Danguard Ace, then sprinted left. Another lightning blast flashed past him.

"I've got gatling guns!" Rieger took control of the weapons and fired. The rounds pummeled the Mechakong's chest, shoulders and face. Sparks jumped off its hide. Metal shards exploded from the barrel of the right shoulder-mounted cannon. It fell to the ground.

The particle beam fired. It struck the Mechakong's right breast. Its remaining shoulder-mounted cannon fired. The shells burst across Danguard Ace's chest. Rieger tensed, tremors gripping the robot.

King Kong jumped onto the Mechakong. The ape roared and pounded the robot's back. Beyond them the other Mechakong karate chopped Godzilla's neck. He staggered to the right. Godzilla shook his head, then swiped at the Mechakong. His clawed hand struck the robot's head. It reeled, nearly losing its balance.

Rieger looked at the third Mechakong. Mothra sprayed silk on the robot's left arm. The robot launched two Noor missiles. They exploded against Mothra's head. The caterpillar shrieked and writhed. A cry of agony came from Earth's Cosmos.

Anguirus bit down on the Mechakong's right arm. The robot tried to shake him off, to no avail. The Mechakong brought a fist down on Anguirus' head.

"C'mon," said Rieger. "Let's give Mothra and Anguirus a hand."

He sent Danguard Ace charging at the third Mechakong. Martinez fired the particle beam. It hit the arm. A shower of sparks erupted.

The Mechakong turned. Danguard Ace brought up both arms. The rail guns fired. The Mechakong stumbled back. Huge dents formed on its left breast.

Anguirus swung his tail. It smashed into the Mechakong's back. The robot pitched forward and hit the ground face first.

Mothra crept forward. Silk shot from its mouth. The cotton-like substance covered the Mechakong's back. When Mothra stopped spitting silk, Anguirus jumped in the air and came down on the robot.

"Looks like they're good here." Rieger nodded at the two monsters and turned Danguard Ace around.

Two lightning bolts hit the robot in the chest. Rieger let out a roar, trying to keep Danguard Ace upright.

He failed.

The American robot crashed to the ground.

"Everyone okay?" he asked, clawing at the control panel.

Martinez, Heath and the SF members all answered yes.

"Look out!" cried Earth's Cosmos.

Rieger checked the monitor. His muscles tensed.

The Mechakong with the wrecked shoulder cannon stood over them. Its chest plate slid away, revealing the missile tubes.

"Hold on!" Rieger shoved the controls left. Danguard Ace rolled. Two missiles flew out of the Mechakong. Gushers of fire and earth shot up where Danguard Ace had been moments before. The American robot swept out its left leg. It struck the Mechakong in back of its legs. The enemy robot collapsed on its back.

Danguard Ace stood up. It kicked the Mechakong in the side. The robot soared over Constitution Avenue and crashed onto the base of destroyed Washington Monument.

Rieger checked on the Guardian Monsters. Godzilla rammed a shoulder into one of the Mechakongs. The robot retaliated with a knee to the giant lizard's gut.

The third Mechakong had thrown off Anguirus and struggled to its feet. Lightning bolts shot from its eyes. They exploded against Mothra. The caterpillar rolled across the street and into the Reflecting Pool. Anguirus roared and leapt at the Mechakong. It slammed into its torso and knocked it down.

"Ladies!" Rieger called out to Earth's Cosmos. "The joints. Tell the monsters to attack the Mechakongs joints."

"We will," the twin fairies responded.

Rieger turned back to the screen. The Mechakong by the Washington Monument started getting up.

Danguard Ace rushed toward it.

**XXXXX**

"Bastard!" Captain Zendegani yelled in the cockpit of Mechakong Three. The robot backhanded Anguirus, knocking the monster on its side. He glared at the damn beast, trying to get Mechakong Three to its feet. The robot's movement felt sluggish. It had to be from the hardening silk Mothra had sprayed on them.

_Filthy bug._ Rage burned within Zendegani. He would kill Mothra. Kill Anguirus. Kill all these damn monsters.

Mechakong Three leveled its arms at Anguirus. The gatling guns in the knuckles roared. Hundreds of 30mm rounds pounded the monster's spiked shell. It wailed.

Lightning bolts struck Anguirus. Three Noor missiles exploded against its shell. Its high-pitched roar grew louder.

Zendegani leaned forward in his chair. He smiled wide.

_Die, damn you. Die!_

"Captain!" Lieutenant Seraj shouted. "Behind us!"

Zendegani checked the rear camera. He held his breath.

King Kong charged them.

Zendegani shoved the controls right. Too late. Kong smashed into the Mechakong. Zendegani cried out as the robot toppled over. The impact sent a quake through the entire Mechakong.

He frantically worked the controls to get the robot on its feet. Another quake shook the Mechakong. King Kong pounded the robot's left shoulder. The ape roared and grabbed the left arm, pulling it.

_No. No!_ Mechakong Three tried to yank its arm out of Kong's grip. Zendegani clenched his teeth. He could feel the strain through the controls as the Mechakong fought against King Kong's pull.

The sound of rending metal echoed through the cockpit. Sweat spilled from every pore in Zendegani's body. He prayed to Allah to give him the strength to break free of King Kong's grasp.

A loud groan and a stiff, tearing sound filled the air.

"No!" Zendegani slammed a fist on his control panel. He seethed, glaring at the monitor as King Kong held the Mechakong's torn arm triumphantly over his head.

"I have weapons!" Zendegani turned the Mechakong to face King Kong. He launched a Noor missile. A fireball erupted on Kong's chest. The ape stumbled backwards.

_This time I will finish you._

He advanced on Kong.

White silk spattered against Mechakong Three's chest.

"What!" He saw Mothra on the monitor shooting out a stream of silk. The white substance expanded and thickened.

"Missile tubes blocked!" blurted Seraj.

Mechakong Three tried to back away. Mothra aimed its silk at the robot's legs. Zendegani pushed hard at the controls. The legs barely moved. The silk completely coated them.

Still he tried to back up. If Mechakong Three's legs pushed hard enough against the cocoon, it might break free.

The robot lost its balance and fell.

Zendegani rolled Mechakong Three over and crawled away using its remaining arm. There was no way they could fight like this.

But they could fight from the air. They could strafe these three monsters with the lightning dischargers, and the bastards wouldn't be able to touch them.

"Prepare for takeoff."

"Captain, we can't," said Seraj.

"What are you talking about?" demanded Zendegani.

"That silk from Mothra. It's clogged our engines. They're completely useless."

Zendegani's heart pounded, fueled by fear and panic. Dammit, he had to get away. Mechakong Three had no chance against these monsters.

He furiously worked the controls. The robot crawled toward Constitution Avenue as fast as possible.

"Anguirus!" Seraj pointed to the screen.

The sweat on Zendegani's skin turned ice cold. Anguirus wailed and charged them. Mechakong Three tried to turn away.

Anguirus dropped its shoulder. Its spiky shell crashed into Mechakong Three's right shoulder. The robot shook. Zendegani was thrown against the straps of his chair. A crashing, tearing sound consumed the air around him.

Mechakong Three laid face down on the ground. Zendegani pulled and pounded at the controls. The robot would not move. He checked the camera mounted on the right shoulder. What he saw left him frozen in horror.

The right arm had been torn off.

Zendegani emitted short, panicked breaths. Slowly, he turned to the control panel. No arms, the legs covered by a cocoon.

He was helpless.

"Allah have mercy," muttered Lieutenant Amirabadi.

Zendegani followed the weapons officer's gaze to the monitor. He trembled when he saw King Kong standing over them, still clutching Mechakong's Three severed left arm.

The ape roared and raised the robotic arm over his head like a club. Zendegani closed his eyes just as Kong brought it down.

The explosion of metal of metal blew out his eardrums. He cried out and looked over his shoulder.

The hull had caved in.

Another blow shook Mechakong Three. The monitor went dark. All the lights in the cockpit blinked out. The only illumination came from sparks shooting out of the consoles.

Kong clubbed Mechakong Three's head again. The crumpled hull pushed closer to Zendegani. His heart slammed against his chest. He muttered a prayer, tensing for the next blow.

A horrendous crash ripped through the cockpit. Metal pushed toward him, filling his vision. Zendegani managed a split-second scream before he, Seraj and Amirabadi were crushed to a pulp.

**XXXXX**

Rieger had Danguard Ace strike the Mechakong's right shoulder with a karate chop. The American robot backed up and kicked the Mechakong in the armpit. Sparks shot out from it. Danguard Ace followed up with a particle beam to the Mechakong's shoulder. More sparks erupted.

With its left hand, the Mechakong grabbed a chunk of white marble. Rubble from the Washington Monument. The Mechakong threw it at Danguard Ace. Rieger twisted the controls right. The rubble sailed past him.

Lightning bolts shot out the Mechakong's eyes. They hit Danguard Ace's left leg. The explosion shook the robot. It dropped to the ground. Rieger had Danguard Ace stretch out its hands to stop its fall. The robot started to push itself to its feet.

The Mechakong was on Danguard Ace. It wrapped its left arm around the American robot's shoulders. The Mechakong then placed the heel of its right palm under Danguard Ace's chin and pushed.

Rieger's breathing increased. He tried to fight off the fear clawing at his soul. He stabbed at the control panel. Danguard Ace drove a fist into the Mechakong's gut. The enemy robot ignored the blow. It kept pushing against Danguard Ace's head.

A deep groan filled the cockpit. Rieger manipulated the controls, increasing the resistance in Danguard Ace's head.

The Mechakong kept pushing. The groaning grew louder.

Rieger tensed. Any second he expected Danguard Ace's head to be ripped off.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	17. Chapter 17

Captain Ebtehaj clenched his teeth, pushing down on the controls for Mechakong One's right arm. He could feel Danguard Ace's head start to give. Any second it would rip off. Then . . .

He gazed beyond the American robot. Godzilla rammed a shoulder into Mechakong Two, knocking it back. The giant lizard roared and swung its tail. It struck Mechakong Two in the side.

Fury boiled within Ebtehaj. He thought back to his first battle with Godzilla, recalled the damage the damn dinosaur had inflicted on his Mechakong. His uncle's orders to run away played in his mind, stroking his already burning anger.

_Not this time. _Godzilla would die by his hand.

All he had to do was finish off this metallic pest.

He pushed the controls harder. Pain crushed his right arm. He would endure it. Any second he'd tear off Danguard Ace's head. Then he would finish Godzilla.

Something slammed into Mechakong One's back. Ebtehaj pitched forward. His hand slipped off the controls. Tremors shot through the robot.

"What the hell is that?" Ebtehaj screamed, barely noticing Danguard Ace break free of the Mechakong's hold. He checked the rear camera.

King Kong latched on to the robot's back, pounding its shoulder and head. Ebtehaj fought through the shaking and grabbed the controls. Mechakong One spun around. King Kong held on. His huge fists pummeled the robot. The shoulder-mounted cannon shattered. Large dents formed in the armor.

Mechakong One jumped in the air and fell backwards. It drove King Kong into the ground. The earth around them collapsed. Tremors spread throughout Washington.

Mechakong One rose to its feet. Ebtehaj checked the monitor. King Kong lay in the huge crater, stunned.

"Damn dirty ape!"

Mechakong One raised its left foot and brought it down on King Kong's gut.

Ebtehaj's breaths turned into animalistic growls as he stared at Kong's prone form. He'd wasted enough time on him. He wanted, _needed, _to go after Godzilla.

Mechakong One turned around.

Danguard Ace rushed forward and clotheslined the robot.

Ebtehaj let out a cry as the Mechakong crashed on its back. The air shot out of him. He drew a ragged breath and pushed the Mechakong to its knees.

Danguard Ace clamped down on Mechakong One's right wrist. The American robot raised its elbow and brought it down. The point rammed into the Mechakong's shoulder. A metallic ripping filled the air. Ebtehaj gripped his console and looked at the monitor. His eyes widened.

Mechakong One's right arm was gone.

"Daei!" he shouted at the weapons officer. "Missiles! Blast that robot to scrap!"

Daei tapped at his console. "Missile tubes open. I need a target."

Ebtehaj turned the Mechakong to face Danguard Ace. The American robot appeared in the monitor.

"Missiles away!" hollered Daei.

Two Noor missiles blasted out of Mechakong One's chest. Tracers spat from Danguard Ace's galting guns. They exploded in mid-air.

"Dammit!" Ebtehaj slammed his fist on the console. "Lightning strike! They can't defend -"

"Look out!" Towfigh yelled.

Danguard Ace flew through the air. Ebtehaj braced himself. The American robot's left foot smashed into Mechakong One's chest. It stumbled back and fell over.

Ebtehaj struggled to get the robot back on its feet. Not an easy task with the Mechakong missing an arm. He just got it to sit up when Danguard Ace appeared. The American robot reached out for the Mechakong's chest.

_What the hell is it doing?_

**XXXXX**

Captain Torabian gritted his teeth, feeling the tremors as Godzilla raked his claws across Mechakong Two's chest. His hands flew over the controls. Mechakong Two drew its right fist back and buried it in Godzilla's gut. The monster grunted and stumbled back.

"Launch missiles!"

"Missiles away," responded Lieutenant Paknazar, the weapons officer.

Three Noors slammed into Godzilla. Fireballs erupted across his torso.

Mechakong Two rushed forward. It delivered two karate chops to Godzilla's neck. The monster staggered to the side. Mechakong Two pounded Godzilla on the snout. He growled and turned away. Mechakong Two grabbed one of Godzilla's armored plates and the back of its skull. The robot rammed the dinosaur into the ground once . . . twice . . . three times! A cloud of dust hovered around them.

Torabian chuckled. _Another head to add to my collection. _He'd already killed Mothra – the butterfly one. If he killed Godzilla, he couldn't imagine the rewards he'd receive, both in this life and the next one.

_Allah has truly smiled on me._

Godzilla tried to push himself up. Mechakong Two launched three more Noor missiles. Explosions erupted on the monster's back. Torabian was about to order a lightning strike when Lieutenant Mahdavi, the sensor officer, shouted, "Mothra and Anguirus are behind us."

Torabian checked the monitor. The two monsters headed for Mechakong Two.

The robot spun around. Lightning shot from its eyes. A mass of sparks exploded from Mothra. The caterpillar rolled across The Ellipse, trailing smoke. Anguirus roared and whipped its tail around. Mechakong Two extended its arms. The robot caught Anguirus' tail. The monster wailed, trying to pull free.

Torabian checked the rear camera. Godzilla was almost to his feet. A grin spread across Torabian's face.

Mechakong Two swung Anguirus around. Godzilla had just straightened up when Anguirus' spiky shell smashed into him. The mutant dinosaur soared through the air and crashed into a pile of rubble near the White House. An enormous cloud of dust gushed into the air.

The Mechakong let go of Anguirus' tail. The monster wailed and flew over Washington. It crashed down on the charred remains of the Kennedy Center, then rolled into the Potomac River.

Mechakong Two turned back to Godzilla. Torabian marched the robot across The Ellipse. Slow-moving dots on the screen caught his attention. He spotted four helicopters. Two Hinds, a Huey and a Shahed 278. The last had to be General Karimi's personal helicopter. He was leaving the White House? Why? Allah would protect the man destined to impose His will on the entire world.

Torabian shook off the extraneous thoughts. He needed to kill this creature who protected the infidels.

Mechakong Two bent down and grabbed Godzilla. It lifted the giant lizard over its head. Mechakong Two reared back and flung the monster into the air. Godzilla flew over the Potomac and slammed into the shoreline of Theodore Roosevelt Island.

Torabian activated the robot's jetpack. It took off toward the little island in the middle of the river.

_Time to finish this._

**XXXXX**

Rieger pulled back on the arm controls. His muscles strained.

_C'mon. C'mon._

He heard the groan of metal from Mechakong One. Its chest plate bent back, back . . .

It ripped free. Danguard Ace stumbled back. Rieger kept the robot on its feet. He then stepped forward and swung the torn chest plate. It smashed into the Mechakong's face. The robot gorilla staggered. Sparks spat out of its right eye. Rieger guessed the blow took out the Mechakong's lightning dischargers.

He then focused on the exposed missile tubes.

"Bob, I think it's time for our one shot. Activate maser."

Martinez tapped a few buttons. "Maser online."

"Heath." Rieger looked to the flight engineer. "Keep an eye on the power readings from the maser. Sing out if it gets too high."

"Yes, Sir."

"Resonators charged," said Martinez. "Maser ready to fire."

Rieger pointed to the screen. "Target those missile tubes."

"Targeting missile tubes."

The main monitor showed the targeting box settle over the tubes on the right side of the Mechakong's chest.

"Locked on target," Martinez announced. "Maser firing."

**XXXXX**

"Malfunction to the lightning dischargers," Daei reported.

"Dammit!" Ebtehaj snapped his head toward his flight engineer. "Towfigh! Fix it."

"I can't. There's too much damage to . . . Sir, look!" Towfigh pointed at the monitor.

Ebtehaj turned to the screen. A blue glow lit up Danguard Ace's chest. He pressed against the back of his seat, eyes bulging.

_The maser._

A blue beam sliced through the air. It struck Mechakong One in the chest.

Ebtehaj tried to scream, "No!" Fear constricted his throat.

The maser detonated the Noor missiles. Explosions rocked Mechakong One. An enormous fireball burst from the robot's torso. Roars and crashes pounded Ebtehaj's eardrums. He pressed his hands against his helmet and screamed.

A wall of flame tore through the cockpit. Daei and Towfigh were vaporized instantly. Ebtehaj got out one word of his intended prayer before the fire consumed him.

**XXXXX**

The flaming wreckage of the Mechakong just started to topple when Rieger turned to Heath. "How are the power readings from the maser?"

Heath stared at his monitor. His shoulders relaxed. "Power readings are twenty percent above normal, but falling. We also had two resonators burn out."

"Well, Hiroko said we'd only have one shot." He turned to the main monitor. Flames and smoke billowed from what was left of the Mechakong. "I'd say we made it count. Good work, guys."

Martinez and Heath thanked him.

"That leaves us just one more of these big metal bastards to deal with."

Rieger turned Danguard Ace around. His brow furrowed as he checked the main monitor. He found no sign of Godzilla, Anguirus or the last Mechakong.

"Where the hell did everyone go?"

**XXXXX**

Mechakong Two landed in the rubble-strewn parking lot of the Kennedy Center. Torabian smiled as he watched Godzilla struggle to get to its feet.

_Torabian the Kaiju Slayer. _That is how he will be known for all time. First Mothra, soon Godzilla, then those other annoying beasts and the damn American robot. With all of them dead, he could slaughter the infidels in this country with ease.

He briefly envisioned a statue of himself in a park in Tehran when he ordered a lightning strike. The bolts exploded against Godzilla's scaly hide. He roared and fell on his side.

Noor missiles flew from the Mechakong. Geysers of flame rose around Godzilla.

Torabian launched the Mechakong over the Potomac. The robot landed near the mutant dinosaur. He wanted to finish the beast himself. No lightning. No missiles. He wanted to tear off Godzilla's head, just like he had done with butterfly Mothra in New York.

Mechakong Two reached down.

A wall of water exploded from the Potomac.

Mechakong Two turned around. Anguirus wailed and charged out of the river. It barreled into the robot, knocking it over.

Torabian wrestled with the controls. He had the Mechakong sit up. Anguirus stomped toward them.

"Lightning strike!"

Bolts struck Anguirus in the neck. The monster cried out and rolled onto its back. Its leg thrashed in the air, trying to right itself.

Mechakong Two got to its feet. Torabian eyed Anguirus' underbelly. That had to be its weakest spot. One or two lightning strikes and –

A horrific crash rocked the Mechakong. Torabian's bones and teeth vibrated. He looked at the monitor.

Danguard Ace dove at them. Blue flashes came from its rail guns. Two more deafening _clangs_ sent quakes through Mechakong Two.

"Lightning strike!" He ordered.

The first shot missed. The second nailed Danguard Ace in the chest. The robot dropped from the sky and hit the water. Mini-tidal waves washed over the shores of Theodore Roosevelt Island.

_Godzilla. Kill Godzilla. _

Torabian turned toward the lizard.

He froze in shock when he saw the blue glow in Godzilla's mouth.

"No!" He jammed the controls right.

A stream of atomic flame struck Mechakong Two in the left leg. Flames and smoke burst from it. The leg collapsed and fell away. Torabian desperately worked the controls, but couldn't stop Mechakong Two from falling. A mass of trees were crushed beneath its torso as it crashed to the ground.

_Get up! _Torabian pulled levers and pressed buttons. _We can still fight._

Mechakong Two pushed itself up.

"Captain!" shouted Mahdavi. "Godzilla is behind us!"

Torabian looked at the feed from the rear camera. Again the monster's mouth glowed blue. He tensed as another blast of atomic fire streaked toward them. The blue flames washed over the Mechakong's jetpack.

_The fuel!_

That proved to be Torabian's last thought.

**XXXXX**

Danguard Ace surfaced just in time for Rieger and the others to see a massive fireball rise from Theodore Roosevelt Island.

"Holy shit," Martinez muttered.

Rieger whistled in awe. "Yeah, he killed the hell out of that thing."

Godzilla stared at the flames that engulfed the last Mechakong. He then reared back and let out a long roar of triumph.

Rieger couldn't help himself. He had Danguard Ace raise its right arm and give the King of Monsters a thumbs up.

"Dreamland, this is Danguard Ace," he radioed Area 51.

"Dreamland. Go, Danguard Ace.

"We've got good news. The USA is now Mechakong free. All three Mechakongs have been destroyed. Repeat, all Mechakongs destroyed."

Cheers poured out of his earphone. A smile spread over his face. Martinez reached over and slapped Heath on the shoulder. The Security Forces men high-fived each other as Hopkins walked over to Rieger.

"Good job, Sir. The Iranians'll have a tough time without those big boys."

"You said it, Master Sergeant." Rieger looked in the basket at Earth's Cosmos. "Ladies, thanks for all your help. I think that does it for the darkness you warned us about."

The two tiny women turned at one another, their faces masks of concern. They looked up at him. "I'm sorry, Major Rieger, but you are wrong."

**XXXXX**

General Karimi barely registered his Shahed 278 landing on the deck of the _Cyrus the Great. _He didn't notice the activity around him as he headed for the island.

Suddenly he found himself in his quarters, staring at his custom made globe of the world from the time of the First Persian Empire.

_Destroyed. The Mechakongs were destroyed. How is that possible?_

Karimi thought back to when he first heard the news en route to the carrier. He had asked for confirmation, six different times. Each report was the same. Danguard Ace and the Guardian Monsters destroyed all three Mechakongs.

They also killed his nephew!

Karimi stumbled over to the couch and collapsed onto it. He covered his face with his hand. Ebtehaj, dead. His dreams of the Persian Empire reborn, dead. How could he hope to conquer the Americans, or anyone else, without the Mechakongs?

_Perhaps Allah is testing me. _Karimi shook his head. No. Somehow he had offended Allah. How else to explain the defeat of all three Mechakongs?

_Why? Why? Your will would have been supreme across the planet. I would have made it so._

Karimi continued to sit there. He had no idea how much time passed before he looked over at the globe. Karimi slowly stood and walked over to it, laying his palms on it.

_It would have been mine. All of it._

Not now. Allah had punished him. For his ego, perhaps? Was this His way of teaching him humility? Or maybe He was testing him. Karimi had been dealt a severe blow by The Infidel. Now Allah waited to see how he would respond. Would he run back to Iran, disgraced and defeated? That would never happen. A fleet this size would never be able to hide from the Americans. They would send every ship and plane in their arsenal to hunt them down and obliterate them.

That only left him one option, one last chance to regain some semblance of honor.

Karimi headed to the combat information center. He ignored the sailors who stood at attention when he entered and strode over to the map table. He scanned the Eastern Seaboard of the United States until his eyes settled on one city in particular. It looked big enough, and it was certainly a prime example of America's depravity and perversion.

It was perfect.

"Commander Najdi," he called to _Cyrus the Great's _executive officer.

"Yes, Sir."

"Send a message to our fleet and all our air bases. I want every aircraft and every ship we have to make for Atlantic City."

Najdi gave him a baffled look. "Sir?"

"The war is lost. Without the Mechakongs, we cannot bring about a new Persian Empire. The Americans will come for us. They will kill us. But before they do, we shall launch an all-out attack on Atlantic City."

Karimi's eyes narrowed in a look of determination. "We will die, but we will take many Americans with us."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	18. Chapter 18

_You'd think these dumbasses would know when they're beaten._

Rieger shook his head. Even with the Mechakongs destroyed, even with their would-be emperor hightailing it out of here, the Iranians in Washington fought on.

Half-a-dozen T-72 tanks sat in a parking lot next to the shattered remains of RFK Stadium. Flame and smoke belched from their 125mm guns. Several rounds missed Danguard Ace. A few struck it with almost no effect.

Rieger saw no sense wasting ammunition. He marched Danguard Ace toward the parking lot. The tanks started backing up. Not fast enough, however. Danguard Ace crushed a pair of T-72s with a single footfall. A kick sent two more tanks tumbling into the nearby Anacostia River. The robot reached down and grabbed the remaining two tanks. Rieger had Danguard Ace spread out its arms, then smash its hands together. Twisted metal from the T-72s spilled from its palms and onto the asphalt below.

Rieger scanned around him. Mothra sprayed silk over a nearby high school football stadium where Iranian soldiers had taken up position. Anguirus chased down several APCs on the golf course. King Kong tossed around Raad-2 self-propelled guns. Godzilla stood in the river, eyeing a squat Houdong-class missile boat barreling toward him. Two missiles streaked from the vessel. They exploded against Godzilla's torso. Tracers from Houdong's 30mm cannons peppered the monster. Godzilla spat out a jet of blue flame. The Houdong vanished in a fireball.

"Heath," Rieger called out. "Got any more targets for us?"

"I've got a convoy of jeeps and Rakhsh APCs across the river, southbound on 295."

"Let's take 'em out."

Rieger had Danguard Ace take a running jump over the Anacostia River. The robot landed next to the highway. White smoke rose from the tires of the jeeps and the compact armored personnel carriers as they screeched to a halt. Many of them tried to turn around.

Danguard Ace swept a hand over the highway. The jeeps and APCs bounced across the asphalt. Rieger gazed at the crumpled pieces of metal. More Iranian troops and vehicles out of action. Again he checked on the Guardian Monsters. They continued smashing and burning and tossing Iranian soldiers and equipment. He nodded in satisfaction. At this rate, the groundpounders wouldn't face much resistance when they finally arrived in DC.

Rieger had Heath search for more targets of opportunity when Major Blake's voice came over the radio.

"Dreamland to Danguard Ace."

"Danguard Ace. Go."

"Disengage and head north immediately."

A perplexed look formed on Rieger's face. "Dreamland, we're not done kicking the crud out of the Iranians here."

"Forget about the Iranians in Washington. Recon satellites and drones are tracking a large number of enemy ships and aircraft heading toward Southern New Jersey. Probable target, Atlantic City."

Dread rose inside Rieger. How many people lived in and around Atlantic City? A hundred thousand? More? Add in all the out-of-towners there to gamble . . .

Nausea stabbed his gut. He gazed at the basket containing Earth's Cosmos. This had to be what they meant when they said the darkness had not ended. General Karimi would not meekly accept defeat. He planned to go down in flames, committing the greatest act of mass murder in US history.

"Dreamland, Danguard Ace is disengaging and heading north. We'll see if Earth's Cosmos can get the Guardian Monsters to join us."

"Roger, Danguard Ace," Blake replied. "We also have reinforcements on the way. A lot of reinforcements."

**XXXXX**

General Karimi drew a deep, satisfying breath as he saw the green and brown strip of land on the horizon.

_You may have won, but your victory will be costly._

He lowered the binoculars and looked out the bridge windows of the _Cyrus the Great. _Cruisers, destroyers, frigates, patrol boats and container ships plied the waters around him. A mass of jet fighters and helicopters thundered overhead. All bearing down on Atlantic City and its environs. An estimated 275,000 Americans lived and worked in and around that cesspool of gambling and perversion.

If his empire had to die, it would die removing that filth from the world. Karimi took some solace in that.

He picked up the phone and contacted _Cyrus the Great's _captain down in the CIC. "Alert all ships and aircraft. Tell them to ready all long-range missiles for launch."

"Yes, Sir."

Karimi hung up and stared back out the window. Once they expended all missiles, the ships would fire their guns, all the while sailing toward Atlantic City until they ran around. Then they would keep firing until they emptied their magazines. After that, the crews would go ashore carrying rifles, pistols, grenades, knifes, tools and makeshift clubs. They'd spread through the city, killing Americans until they themselves were killed. It would be a bloodbath.

It would be the price they paid for denying him his empire.

"General," said Lieutenant Hajian, _Cyrus the Great's _officer of the deck. "Radar is picking up inbound aircraft, in excess of two hundred."

Karimi's eyes widened. He then took a calming breath. "This was to be expected. No matter. We will kill them, too."

"It is not only aircraft, Sir. Radar has also detected a very large target accompanying them. All indications are it is the American robot, Danguard Ace."

Karimi tensed. He felt his chest tighten. Intelligence had determined that Danguard Ace had been the one that destroyed Mechakong One.

And killed his nephew.

_Hossein Ebtehaj, you shall be avenged._

Black dots appeared on the horizon. It wasn't long before they began to take shape, to the point Karimi could identify them.

F-35 Lightnings. F-22 Raptors. F/A-18 Hornets. F-16 Fighting Falcons. F-15 Eagles. F-117 Stealth Fighters. AV-8B Harriers. A-10 Warthogs. And at the forefront, Danguard Ace.

Karimi turned to Hajian. "Order all planes to intercept the American fighters."

"Yes, Sir.

The rumble above them grew louder. Swarms of aircraft rocketed toward the Americans. MiG-29s. MiG-31s. MiG-27s. F-14s. F-4s. F-5s. Chinese-made F-6s and F-7s. Saeqeh-80s. J-10s. SU-30s. SU-25s. SU-24s. The very air shook from the multitude of jet engines. Karimi barely blinked, transfixed by the sight of so many aircraft. He held his breath and waited . . . waited . . .

Flames flickered under the jets' wings. Missiles raced across the sky. Iranian and American jets twisted and banked. Tiny red suns and clouds of silver spewed from their bellies. Flares and aluminum chaff to fool enemy missiles.

Fireballs stained the sky. Flaming pieces of metal tumbled into the water. A mass of contrails criss-crossed the sky.

Karimi jerked in surprise as a roar and a rush penetrated the bridge. He watched SA-N-3 and SA-N-4 missiles blast off the bow launchers. Puffs of smoke and flame erupted from the 76mm and 30mm guns. All around _Cryus the Great_ missiles and tracers rose from the other ships of the fleet. Miniature suns burst overhead, joined by hundreds of streaks of laser-like light. More flaming wreckage fell into the ocean.

Jets zipped through the air, firing, banking, falling.

"Yes!" Karimi let out a brief cheer when he saw an SU-30 drop behind an F/A-18 and put a missile into its engines. A flash of orange and black blotted out the American jet. To his right, Karimi watched a MiG-29 dive on a Harrier and riddle the stubby jet with 30mm fire. The Harrier coughed smoke and plunged into the ocean. Joy swelled inside Karimi.

It evaporated when he spotted an F-117 put two bombs into a Kara-class cruiser. A pair of volcanic explosions tore apart the Russian-built ship. A hundred meters behind the obliterated vessel, an ungainly A-10 dove on a Kaman-class missile boat. Tracers from its 30mm GAU cannon bracketed the Kaman. Armor-piercing rounds ripped apart the small superstructure and the missile launchers. A ball of flame consumed the ship.

"Sir!" Hajian pointed to the window.

Karimi looked. His stomach clenched.

Danguard Ace splashed down amongst the fleet.

"Target that damn robot. Fire everything we have at it!"

Clouds of smoke belched from the forward launchers. Eight SS-N-12 anti-ship missiles roared over the waves. Karimi moved closer to the windows, his gaze locked on the missiles. Anticipation grew as they neared Danguard Ace.

The robot's gatling guns fired. A barrage of tracers rained down on the SS-N-12s. One by one they exploded.

"No!" Karimi spun around to face Hajian, teeth bared. "Keep firing! Empty our magazines if you have to. I want that damn thing destroyed!"

Hajian gulped. "Y-Yes, Sir."

The 76mm guns thumped and the 30mm gatlings whirred. Shells exploded against Danguard Ace. It had no effect on the robot.

Other ships converged on Danguard Ace. Two Kaman-class boats launched their C802 anti-ship missiles. The robot fired its gatling guns again. It shot down all but two of the missiles. Both exploded against Danguard Ace's hip without effect. The robot fired its left rail gun twice. The two Kamans disintegrated.

A dagger-shaped Tir-class torpedo boat charged at Danguard Ace's leg, attempting a suicide run. Karimi silently cheered it on.

A karate chop by the robot shattered the Tir.

Danguard Ace waded forward. The eye-mounted particle beam blew apart a Kotlin-class destroyer and an Alvand-class corvette.

Karimi shook off his fear. He may die today, but not at this moment. Not before he killed more Americans.

"Hajian. Order all helicopters to head toward Atlantic City. Tell them to make sure they fly past Danguard Ace."

The OOD stared at him in confusion for a split second, then relayed the order to CIC.

Karimi stared out the bridge windows. Danguard Ace was about a half-mile from _Cyrus the Great. _A Kashin-class destroyer sailed in front of the robot, firing its missiles and guns. Two fireballs erupted on Danguard Ace's torso. It leveled its right arm and fired the rail gun. The middle of the ship disintegrated in a cloud metallic confetti. Seconds later a Kaman-class missile boat met the same fate.

A massive pounding sound enveloped the bridge. Karimi looked up. Dozens of helicopters flew overhead. Hinds. Hueys. Sea Kings. Chinooks. Jet Rangers. S-58s. Sea Cobras. Mi-6s. Mi-8s. Ka-27s. Shahed 285s. They zoomed past Danguard Ace. The robot turned and swatted at them. Six helicopters shattered. Particle beams blew up three more. Danguard Ace blasted out of the water and pursued the rest.

Karimi smiled. That would buy them some time. In a few minutes, they would be close enough to Atlantic City to bombard it with their heavy guns. A few ships might make it through and beach themselves. Then –

"G-G-General." Hajian's voice quivered.

"What is it?" He turned to the OOD. The man gawked out the window. Karimi followed his gaze.

_No!_ He stood statue still, watching the huge, dark forms slashing through the waves toward his fleet.

**XXXXX**

Rieger leveled out Danguard Ace, flying straight at the swarm of helicopters. Anxiety tugged at his insides. Could even this robot stop every single chopper before they reached Atlantic City?

"Olympus Five, Danguard Ace," he radioed the E-3 AWACS managing the air battle. "Multiple enemy helicopters inbound for Alpha Charlie." Rieger used the military alphabet for Atlantic City's initials.

"Roger, Danguard Ace. Vectoring aircraft to intercept."

Rieger eyed the coastline, under fifteen miles away. "Better make it snappy, Olympus. Out."

He increased Danguard Ace's speed. Martinez worked the particle beam and the gatlings. The deadly light show reached out to the Iranian helicopters. Several winked out in orange and black flashes. The others banked or dove for the deck.

The whirring of the gatling guns ceased.

Martinez grunted. "Gatlings are out of ammo."

"Swell," replied Rieger.

"That's not all," said Heath. "The ion source for the particle beam is starting to overheat."

"We're also down to our last few rounds for the rail guns," reported Martinez.

Rieger clenched his jaw and stared at the AESA screen. They'd already shot down several helicopters.

Dozens more remained.

Ice coated his gut. He knew they'd never get them all.

"Fire everything until we're empty. We gotta splash as many of these bastards as we can."

Martinez opened up with the particle beam and the rail guns. The helicopters didn't make things easy, constantly weaving. Here and there fireballs marked the deaths of enemy choppers.

The rail guns ran dry. Martinez took out seven more helicopters with the particle beam before the ion source burned out. Rieger plunged Danguard Ace into the mass of helicopters. He backhanded a lumbering Chinook, then smashed a pair of Jet Rangers. A check of the AESA showed no American jets headed their way. They probably had a tough time getting away from the Iranian fighters.

Not that that would mean much to the civilians on the ground.

Rieger saw the large hotel/casinos looming miles away. He swatted three more helicopters before flying ahead of the remaining ones.

"What are you doing?" Martinez asked.

"Getting between them and AC. We'll try to absorb as many missiles and rockets as we can from them."

When they neared the beach, Rieger spun Danguard Ace around and landed near the boardwalk, the Atlantic City Resorts and Trump Taj Mahal behind him. The robot crouched, like a giant goalkeeper.

Dozens of helicopters were spread before Rieger. He gripped the controls. Anger built inside him. Here he was, controlling the most advanced weapon on Earth, and he wouldn't be able to stop every missile and shell fired by those helicopters.

_Do the best you can._

The thought quickly died in his head. His best wouldn't mean shit to the civilians who were about to die.

The choppers drew closer. Three miles . . . two miles.

Contrails appeared behind the Iranian helicopters, gaining on them fast.

"Heath. ID new contacts," Rieger ordered.

The tech sergeant checked his screens. He spun around in his seat, his face lit up. "AIM-120 AMRAAMs! Their ours!"

Relief flooded Rieger. His eyes flickered between the AESA screen and the visual monitor. The medium-range air-to-air missiles collided with several helicopters. Balls of fire burst in the sky. More missiles tore through the air. Heat-seeking Sidewinders. More choppers exploded.

F-35s and Harriers shot over the remaining helicopters. The American jets banked around and switched to vertical flight mode, making it easier for them to engage the slow-moving helicopters. Missiles and tracers cut into the formation. Flaming wreckage fell into the ocean.

A sleek Shahed 285 fired its rocket pods. Danguard Ace jumped in front of the barrage. Most of the rockets exploded against its hide. One raced by and struck a parking lot. A geyser of flame tossed several cars into the air. Before the Shahed 285 could fire again, a Sidewinder struck its engine. The chopper vanished in a cloud of flame and smoke.

More rockets and missiles streaked toward Atlantic City. Some fell short, blowing up harmlessly on the beach. Others were blocked by Danguard Ace. A few rockets exploded in front of the Showboat Casino. Flames burst from one of the top floors of the Taj Mahal. Another missile detonated on an abandoned lot beyond the boardwalk. The F-35s and Harriers continued to blow apart enemy helicopters.

"One snuck through!" Martinez pointed to the monitor.

Rieger saw an old, bulbous S-58 approaching the tall, brown tower at Caesars Atlantic City. A muzzle flash from a machine gun erupted from the chopper's side door. Tracers lashed at the big hotel.

Danguard Ace rushed over. The helicopter did move, and its door gunner didn't stop firing, until the robot's hand crashed down on it. Rieger glanced at the hotel, tensing as he noticed the shattered windows and holes in the façade. He prayed no one was in the rooms that got hit.

Rieger looked back out to sea. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw no more helicopters. Columns of smoke rose from a few areas of Atlantic City. Stabs of anger and sorrow went through Rieger as he gazed at the burning structures.

_It could have been a lot worse._

He turned away, trying to put the fires and casualties out of his mind. The battle was far from over.

The F-35s and Harriers raced away from Atlantic City Danguard Ace joined them.

The fighting raged on. Jet fighters continued to barrel through the air, jinking and shooting. Contrails and smoke turned the sky and ugly gray. Flames rose from dozens of ships.

Rieger also noticed something else.

"Well look who decided to join the party."

Martinez and Heath also stared at the monitor.

The Guardian Monsters had arrived.

Godzilla let loose a stream of atomic fire. An enormous fireball ripped apart a container ship. King Kong grabbed the bottom of another container ship and capsized it. Mothra's silk covered an Alvand-class frigate. Anguirus shrugged off gunfire from a Riga-class frigate and impaled it with the horn on his snout.

Rieger looked around the remnants of the enemy fleet. Tracers and shells thudded against Danguard Ace. An F-6 dove at the robot. Orange strobes came from its NR-30 cannons. The 30mm shells bounced harmlessly off Danguard Ace. Rieger swept out the robot's arm. The blow disintegrated the F-6.

_Where is it? _He continued to scan the fleet. He leaned forward when he spotted a ship with missile tubes crowding the bow and an angled flight deck.

Rieger landed Danguard Ace in the water and made a beeline toward the Kiev-class carrier. Karimi had to be using one of them as his flagship.

A Tir-class torpedo boat crossed in front of Danguard Ace, firing its heavy machine gun. The robot bowled over the little vessel and continued straight toward the carrier. Rieger zoomed one of the cameras in on the ship's hull. The computer translated the writing on bow.

_Cyrus the Great._

**XXXXX**

Karimi grinded his teeth as he watched Danguard Ace. The forward guns thumped and growled non-stop. SAMs whooshed off their rails. Sparks and fireballs sprang from the robot.

It didn't slow down.

Karimi scanned around him. He noticed more American jets in the air than Iranian. Flames washed over his other carrier, the _Xerxes. _Godzilla's fiery breath blew up one container ship, while Anguirus rammed another one. King Kong picked up a torpedo boat and hurled it into a Kashin-class destroyer. A pillar of flame erupted from the mid-section. Mothra raised the front half of her body and brought it down on a Houdong-class missile boat.

Karimi looked back at Danguard Ace. The robot was less than a hundred meters from _Cyrus the Great._

"Nothing's stopping it!" Hajian's voice cracked. "General, what shall we do?"

Karimi said nothing. He continued staring at Danguard Ace, the murderer of his nephew, as it neared his carrier.

"General?" Hajian cried out. "General!"

Karimi didn't respond. The time for words, for orders, was over.

There was only one thing left to do.

He silently walked past the terrified Hajian and opened the hatch to the bridge wing. Karimi stepped outside, the stench of cordite, smoke and charred metal and flesh hung in the air. He ignored it and unslung the CQ rifle from his shoulder. He raised it, took aim at Danguard Ace, and fired.

**XXXXX**

"Is that guy serious?" Martinez wondered as he stared at the monitor.

Rieger locked his eyes on the stocky, bearded Iranian on the carrier's bridge wing. The man fired his M-16-like rifle until the magazine emptied. He switched it out with another one and fired again at Danguard Ace.

Rieger couldn't recall ever feeling such a burning hatred toward anyone or anything. He continued glaring at General Karimi. Images of the destruction of Washington and Manhattan played in his mind. The faces of General Grimaldi, Major Summers, the Delivery Man, and so many others who died at The Lair floated before him like ghosts. A lump formed in his throat, thinking about the hundreds of thousands of Americans who had died because of this man's insane dreams of power.

Karimi emptied his rifle, reloaded it and fired. The man couldn't think an assault rifle would do anything against Danguard Ace. No, Rieger figured General Karimi had resigned himself to his fate, and wanted to go out in a blaze of glory.

_If that's how you want it, you son-of-a-bitch, I'll oblige._

Rieger brought up Danguard Ace's fist. Karimi kept firing.

The robot's arm flashed through the air. The fist came down right on top of General Karimi. The superstructure around him caved in.

Another punch smashed through the bow. Ammunition exploded in a shower of sparks. Danguard Ace rained blow after blow on the carrier. The fore section broke apart. The flight deck shattered. Danguard Ace pushed the ship under the surface. Rieger could almost feel the water filling _Cyrus the Great._ Soon the carrier slipped from his hold and floated to the bottom.

Rieger looked around for more targets. All he saw were burning and sinking ships. A handful of Iranian jets flew above him, all pursued by US fighters.

The Guardian Monsters swung their heads in all directions, also looking for more targets. Godzilla breathed a gusher of blue flame, blowing up an F-14. But that was it. Nothing remained for him and his comrades to destroy.

Anguirus wailed, Mothra screeched, King Kong thumped his chest, and Godzilla let out a prolonged roar.

"The darkness," said Earth's Cosmos. "We can feel the darkness fading."

Rieger slumped back in his chair, exhaling loudly. He felt his muscles unwind for the first time in what seemed years. He could fall asleep right here.

Rieger fought off the urge. He straightened up and checked the monitor.

The Guardian Monsters all stared at him. Godzilla waded forward, his huge black eyes aimed right at Danguard Ace.

He nodded at the robot. The other Guardian Monsters followed suit.

"Well I'll be damned." Martinez shook his head.

"Are they . . . saluting us?" Heath asked.

"I think they are, Sergeant," Rieger said.

He did the only thing he could think of. He brought up Danguard Ace's right arm, and in crisp, military fashion, saluted the Guardian Monsters.

_**NEXT: THE CONCLUSION**_


	19. Chapter 19

_I need to be back in the White House._

President Calhoun folded his arms across his chest and glared at the monitors on the wall of the conference room. He shouldn't be leading his country in a time of war from inside a hollowed out mountain. He needed to lead from the White House.

Unfortunately, US ground forces had still not cleared Washington of Iranian holdouts. The Secret Service and Joint Chiefs were adamant that they did not want Calhoun within a hundred miles of the capital until the Armed Forces secured it. That meant he was stuck at NORAD Headquarters in Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado.

His eyes swept over the monitors. Some of the feeds showed battles taking place in DC, Delaware and around Kennedy Airport in New York. Calhoun couldn't help but shake his head. The Iranians had no air, naval or Mechakong support. They had no hope of resupply. Couldn't they see this was a lost cause?

_Maybe they do and just don't care. _

He eyed another set of monitors. They displayed feeds from Iran. Dozens of columns of smoke stretched across the landscape. US bombers, backed by planes and ships from the _Lincoln _carrier battle group, had struck Pasdaran bases, along with the headquarters for the Ministry of Defense and Ministry of Intelligence and National Security.

No bombs had fallen on Iran in the last two hours. Calhoun had ordered a halt to the attacks, and issued his terms to the bastards in Tehran. The immediate surrender of all Iranian forces in the US, the dissolution of the Pasdaran, the end to all projects involving Mechakongs or nuclear weapons, and 100 billion dollars in war reparations, including all the profits from the Pasdaran's business ventures.

Calhoun felt that was more than generous. A majority of the American people wanted him to nuke Tehran.

He checked the digital clock above the monitors. Iran's leaders had less than an hour to respond to his surrender terms. If they didn't, the bombs would start falling again.

An Air Force captain entered the conference room, holding a piece of paper. "Mister President, we've received this communiqué from the Iranian President, via Iran's UN delegation."

Calhoun nodded and took the communiqué.

_President Calhoun,_

_In response to your terms, we are prepared to order our forces in the United States to surrender, provided they are guaranteed safe passage back to the Iran. _

_The Pasdaran is necessary for the security of Iran. We cannot dissolve it, but we agree to reduce their numbers._

_The Government of Iran will cease all production of the Mechakongs. Our nuclear program is for energy purposes only. Since we are not developing nuclear weapons, we will thus continue with that program._

_Your demand of 100 billion dollars in reparations is much too high. It will leave the Republic will little money to help the poor in our society. We are willing to offer your country a sum of 50 million dollars._

Calhoun's head trembled in rage. Those sons-of-bitches had destroyed nearly a dozen American cities, killed hundreds of thousands, displaced millions, and caused untold billions in damage.

And now they wanted to dictate the terms of surrender?

"Do they think I'm kidding?" Calhoun crumpled up the communiqué and threw it on the floor. He snatched a nearby phone and dialed the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

"General Laskey," he spoke deliberately, trying to hold back his fury. "The Iranians have refused to accept our terms for surrender. Resume bombing operations against Iran, and don't stop until those SOBs say uncle."

**XXXXX**

_I'm almost home, _Sergeant Dwayne Betts mused as he and several soldiers from his platoon knelt behind a house. He peered around the corner and saw clumps of trees two blocks away. Kosciuszko Park. His old apartment had been right across the street from it. Growing up, he couldn't count the number of times he heard gunfire coming from the park.

But the pistols the gangbangers had fired there wouldn't compare to what was coming.

Two stubby FV101 Scorpion armored recon vehicles sat at the entrance to the park. So did a jeep with an MGD heavy machine gun. Beyond them lay the HQ for the remaining Iranian forces in Dover.

Distant gunfire and explosions sounded from every corner of the city. The survivors of the Fort Bragg and Camp Lejeune attacks, joined by several National Guard units, had been slugging it out with the Iranians for two days. Betts wondered how much ammunition the enemy could have left. They sure as hell hadn't been getting resupplied. They had to be running low.

But they didn't appear ready to give up any time soon.

A thumping noise came from the sky. Betts and the others looked up.

A pair of Apache helicopters dove toward the park. Tracers slashed through the air. The Apaches avoided them. Hellfire missiles flew off their wing stubs. Geysers of flame consumed the Scorpions and the jeep. The choppers let loose with their 30mm chain guns and unguided rockets. More explosions rose from the park.

A minute later, the Apaches wheeled around.

"Forward!" shouted the platoon sergeant. "Everyone forward!"

Tensing, Betts rushed around the corner and down the residential street. The other members of his platoon jogged around him, weapons up. They ducked behind cars, trees and anything else they could use for cover, waited a few seconds, advanced, and repeated the process.

Twenty-five yards from the burning vehicles, Betts checked over the hood of a car, waiting for the Iranians to open fire.

They didn't.

The platoon hurried toward the park. Intense heat from the flaming wrecks enveloped Betts. Sweat coated his face.

They entered the park. Several dozen Iranians stood by a clump of trees near the tennis court. Every one of them had their arms raised.

_Are you kidding me?_

"Don't move!" shouted the platoon sergeant. "Move and your dead!"

Betts and the others approached the Iranians, their aim not wavering. He came upon a short, solidly built man with a thick mustache and intense eyes. His look and body language screamed, "Officer."

"You in charge here?" asked Betts.

"I am Major Parviz Zarincheh, commander of the Pasdaran forces in this city," he replied in rather good English.

Betts stared at the man in contemplative silence. The Iranian officer corps in Dover must have been hit hard if a major was running the whole show.

"By order of the Supreme Leader of the Islamic Republic of Iran," Zarincheh continued, "All our forces in the United States have been ordered to surrender."

Betts nodded. "Smart move."

Zarincheh's eyes narrowed. "Were it up to me, my men and I would keep fighting until every last one of us was dead."

"Well, it ain't up to you. And now, you can do me a favor."

The Iranian major sneered. "What favor?"

Betts looked through the trees, catching sight of the apartment he'd grown up in. He looked back at Zarincheh. "Get the hell out of my town."

**XXXXX**

The trip was long and wrought with delays. First Rieger, Hiroko, Martinez, Heath, Earth's Cosmos, Hopkins, Leary and two Security Forces men took a C-17 from Area 51 to Joint Base Pearl Harbor-Hickam. Twelve hours later they flew across the Pacific to Anderson Air Force Base in Guam. There they waited two days before the _USS Nimitz _came within range to launch a C-2 Greyhound. The twin turboprop COD – Carrier Onboard Delivery – plane flew them to the carrier, where they boarded an SH-60 Seahawk helicopter. A forty-minute flight brought them to a small, tropical island covered with lush vegetation. The pilot landed on the beach, kicking up a huge cloud of sand. The rotors slowed, then finally stopped. As Rieger and the others stepped out of the Seahawk, dozens of bronze-skinned men and women in colorful cloth shorts and skirts emerged from the vegetation.

"Welcoming committee's here," Rieger said to Earth's Cosmos. He held their basket while Hopkins and his SF men carried the bodybag containing the Delivery Man.

A slender man with wrinkled skin and a bushy gray beard approached. _Gotta be the chief, _Rieger thought. He held out the basket and bowed slightly. The chief smiled and took it, then said something Rieger couldn't understand.

"Our Chief wishes to thank you for our safe return," Earth's Cosmos translated, "and welcomes you to Infant Island."

Rieger smiled and nodded. "Tell him on behalf of the people of the United States, and the rest of the world, I thank him and his people for their help in defeating the darkness that threatened us."

After Earth's Cosmos repeated the statement in their language, Hopkins and the SF men came forward carrying the bodybag. A mournful look fell over the Chief's face. He said something.

"Our Chief asks if that is the body of Daluvou," said Earth's Cosmos.

_So that was his name._ Rieger felt a flicker of guilt at never finding out the Delivery Man's real name.

"Yes, it's him," Hopkins answered. "He died protecting Earth's Cosmos. He was a good man, brave man, and it was an honor to fight alongside him."

Leary and the other two SF men nodded.

The Chief thanked him for returning Daluvou's body, then summoned four natives to carry away the bodybag. He said something, which Earth's Cosmos translated.

"Our Chief wishes for you to join us for supper as our honored guests."

Rieger looked at the others. "Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I've never been one to turn down a free meal."

Everyone responded with nods and smiles.

The pilot radioed the _Nimitz_ about the natives' invitation. The captain gave his approval, not wanting to risk offending the natives of Infant Island after they had sent Mothra to help the US defeat the Mechakongs.

Dinner was unlike anything Rieger had ever experienced. They sat Indian-style at long tables carved out of tree trunks and enjoyed a variety of fish, fruits and an interesting dessert called Poe, a sweet pudding made of taro root mixed with papaya and coconut.

After dinner, native dancers entertained them, then invited Rieger and the others to join them. Again not wanting to offend their customs, they got up and danced.

Rieger felt he held his own well enough. Heath looked stiff and unsure. Hopkins broke out moves better suited for a 1970s-era disco. Leary looked like he was having a seizure.

Then there was Hiroko. Rieger felt a hitch in his breath as he watched her laughing and twirling, her long black hair whipping around. My God, she was so beautiful.

After the dancing, the Chief gave a speech, thanking Rieger and the others for their efforts in defeating the darkness, adding they would always be welcome here on Infant Island. He also offered a prayer for all those who perished in the US/Iran War.

The ceremonies over, the Chief invited them to stay the night. One of the native women directed Rieger and Hiroko to their hut. They walked over to it, holding hands.

"I would not mind staying here for a while," Hiroko said. "It is so peaceful. A nice place to rest."

"I think we can do with a little rest after everything we've been through." Rieger gave Hiroko's hand a gentle squeeze. "I need to thank you again."

"For what?"

"What do you mean, 'for what'? For the way you got Danguard Ace patched up, for giving us that one shot with the maser. Who knows how things would have turned out if you didn't go above and beyond the call of duty."

Hiroko smiled. "Thank you." She suddenly whirled in front of him, forcing him to stop. "And after all that time and effort I spent repairing Danguard Ace, you brought _my _robot back in even worse shape than before."

"Well send the bill to the Iranians. They're the ones responsible for it."

"You could have done a better job dodging punches and missiles and lightning discharges. It will take weeks, perhaps months, to repair all of the damage. We can forget about that 'little rest' you spoke of."

"I'm sorry." Rieger frowned. "I'll make it up to you."

"How?"

"How about we go down to the beach, walk along the surf, then find a spot under a palm tree for a night of red hot passion?"

Hiroko stared at him in silence for several seconds. She then put her arms around his shoulders and grinned.

"It's a start."

_**THE END**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_Thank you for reading. If you liked this story, you'll enjoy my new original sci-fi invasion novel "Dark Wings" (by John J. Rust), available from Amazon and as an ebook at smashwords-dot-com. Also, if any artists out there feel inspired to do a cover for "Rise of the Mechakongs" for the image manager, PM me about it._


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